


The art of exploration

by evakuality



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Trans Character, M/M, Mild Angst, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, some discussions of panic/anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: After a second or two, David’s eyes flit over to the graffiti on the walls opposite them, barely discernible in the torch’s glow, and he adds, “there’s something really beautiful about these abandoned places.”Matteo can feel his face twisting with the pain of that thought.  There’s nothing beautiful about being abandoned.In which David reveals parts of himself via urban exploration and Matteo learns some things about himself along the way.





	1. Exploration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strangetowns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/gifts).



> For [Sarah](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com/), who is the one who originally got me thinking about David and urban exploration. This was supposed to be a birthday gift but who can wait that many weeks? So Sarah, this one's for you. Thank you for the idea!! <3
> 
> Content note: there are some descriptions of panic and anxiety, particularly in the first few paragraphs, which some people may want to skip.
> 
> Many, many thanks go to [Elina](https://tristealven.tumblr.com/) and [Camilla](https://hjertetssunnegalskap1.tumblr.com) for the beta reading and guruing and general hand holding. Plus special note goes to the other people who read, supported and otherwise listened to me whine about this. You know who you are and you know I love you <3
> 
> This is mostly finished and will be updated once a week to give me a bit of editing time.

There’s a harsh beat thumping through the flat, thudding into Matteo’s head, sending sick waves of anxiety rushing through his body.  His hands shake. He doesn’t even know  _ why _ this time.  People press in close, then soft arms encircle his neck, almost suffocating in their sweetness.  Legs wobble. Breath catches in his throat. The stench of perfume, the reek of spilled alcohol.

Matteo’s blood pounds in response, sending hot streams of panic racing through his veins.

Scorching heat.  

Blinding light.  

Raucous noise.  

Laughs.  

Screeches.  

It’s all-encompassing.  Overwhelming. 

Matteo forces the arms away from his neck and pushes through the crowd.  Trails of sweat slide down his back, adding to a sense that he’s in slime, dragging at his legs even while he tries to go faster.  It’s close to impossible, with the people swaying into his path, the laughs and shouts louder and more insistent the more he moves and the closer he gets.  The more obstacles get in between him and his sanctuary, the more distant it seems. His heart thumps a speedy, irregular beat, his breaths coming short and sharp.  He needs to get into his room, find a way to get out of this overpowering, nauseating melee.

The door is shut, and Matteo pushes against it as hard as he can, desperate for the relief of his headphones, his weed.  It gives, a little, but there’s something holding it back. Groaning, he presses harder, frantic need adding strength to his body, and the door gives enough for him to fall inside.  He sucks in a breath and takes in what he’s seeing. Two sets of eyes glaring at him, two naked bodies pressed together, their clothes scattered on the floor leaving a lot more skin displayed than Matteo has ever wanted to encounter in his own bedroom.

“Fuck,” he gasps, getting the words out only through huge effort.  “Get out. It’s my room.”

The expressions on the two faces change to amusement and they shrug, turning back to press bodies together again, mouths lingering over each other and hands starting to move in ways Matteo really doesn’t want to deal with right now.  Pain lances his head again and he growls. It’s obvious the two aren’t going to leave and he  _ needs _ his own space for once.  Trying to steady his shaking hands, Matteo makes a quick assessment.  Staying in here is out; he doesn’t feel capable of holding himself together long enough to get rid of the couple and find peace.  Being out in the rest of the flat is also out. That’s where all the problems started anyway, and the mere idea of staying any longer in that space makes nausea dance in his throat again.  The only thing Matteo can do, the only thing left to him, is to get out to the streets.

The journey back through the flat is at least as bad as the one to his bedroom, but the promise of blessed escape lends purpose to his feet and Matteo heaves a sigh as he slams the building’s door behind him and feels the breeze of the evening on his face.  Still trying to regulate his breathing, Matteo leans against the door, grounding himself with its solid weight behind his back. It’s cold, and the bitter sting as it makes itself known - even through his shirt and jacket - is welcome. Matteo sucks in more breaths, forcing himself to relax with will alone.

“Matteo!”

The voice is distant, as if through a fog, and Matteo wants to ignore it or pretend it’s not there at all.  But it’s impatient, determined, and his name comes again. Louder. More strident. Matteo needs to avoid it, so he pushes off from the door and makes himself move away from the building.  It takes a few minutes of wandering to fully ground himself, to drag his body out of the spiral it was trying to fall into, but once he’s close to calm Matteo starts to walk with more purpose.  His feet take him to an old run down apartment block a short walk away from his own home. It’s not in use, has been abandoned and boarded up for several long months now, and he knows he can get some peace there.  Those who would pursue him are unlikely to venture into a place like that, not in the cold and the dark. Not when there’s a known rat problem and the occasional squatter.

It’s not easy, but Matteo finds a loose board and pries it off the window.  He’s wheezing by the time he squeezes his body through the narrow entry and slides inside, the sharp bang of his landing echoing through the room as it booms off the walls.  It’s the wheeze of exertion, of effort and it feels almost good. For too long Matteo has found himself slipping into panicked moments, losing his breath in a terrifying way that he has no control over.  But now, he feels like this is something he’s managed to conquer alone. The loss of breath, pants harsh as the noise ricochets around the room, and the slow steady return to something quieter, more normal, is something he has chosen for himself.  He feels a freedom and a sense of ownership he seldom finds elsewhere. Which is ironic in a place like this, a place lost and abandoned and unloved.

Stones crunch under his feet as Matteo slowly steps into the room, his phone out and the torch app lighting the discarded detritus of someone’s life which lies scattered in front of him.  The sounds of his footsteps are loud in the still, quiet space and it feels almost as if even breathing will disturb some elemental force in here. Laughing to himself at the fancy of the thought, Matteo nevertheless tries to hold in his breaths as he makes his way into the next room.  It had once been a kitchen, the spaces for appliances open and bare and the sink now rusted and tilted on an angle as if someone has tried to wrench it out.

He slides to the floor, leans against the wall where the fridge must once have sat, and drags out the weed he’d grabbed before fleeing as he avoided staring too long at the couple in his room.  His hands are almost steady as he flicks his lighter, hears the satisfyingly crisp sound of the paper igniting and feels the warmth in his fingers as it starts to curl smoke into the still air around him.  He sucks in, feels the burn as it drags on his throat. The glow of the burning end is a welcome bit of company. In the few brief moments since he got here, night has fallen completely and Matteo feels the weight of his loneliness.  The weed helps though, sending soft, small beads of heat into his body. He can feel the tension starting to leach out as he relaxes into the moment.

A beam of light cuts across his face, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Fuck,” he says, hears the words repeating countless times as he squints up into the face of the boy who’s just entered the room.  It’s hard to make out around the searing light that bobs and weaves as the boy walks further inside, his footsteps somewhat muffled by the soft shoes he’s wearing.  He stops a few meters into the room and tilts his head to the side as if considering Matteo. The light he’s holding dips a little and it’s enough for Matteo to make out dark wavy hair, wide, curious eyes and a tiny amused smile.

“I didn’t think anyone would be here,” the boy says finally.  His voice is soft, but it reverberates through the space, bouncing off walls which have only just settled from the onslaught of noise they’d created when he entered.

Matteo shrugs.  “Didn’t think I’d be here,” he responds.

The boy tilts his head again as if to say  _ fair enough, _ and Matteo smiles.  He stares up at the boy, lets his gaze catch on all the small details he can see in the erratic light of the torches.  The jacket which sits heavy on his shoulders, the slight fuzz on his upper lip, the challenging set of his chin. 

Matteo holds the weed out, a peace offering.  He sees the hesitation in the boy’s eyes as the moment stretches for a beat too long, and shrugs, takes another drag for himself.  After another moment, the boy moves. He slides down the wall next to Matteo and holds his hand out. Doesn’t reach, but rather waits for the invitation to be extended again.  Matteo passes the weed over, feels strangely comfortable with this unknown boy in this shitty, beaten up place.

“What’s your name?” he asks when the joint is passed back to him.

“David.  And yours?”

“Matteo.”

They sit without speaking again, backs resting against the wall, and the soft hum of the city pushing its way into the resulting silence.  It’s restful, and Matteo can’t help but feel more relaxed. He leans his head back on the wall and turns it so he can take in David’s profile.  He looks to be deep in thought, his eyes distanced and unfixed as he hums softly to himself, but it only takes a moment before he obviously feels the weight of Matteo’s gaze and turns his own head to look back.

“What made you come here?” David asks quietly after a few seconds of consideration.  The torch he’s laid carefully on the floor illuminates the area around him and casts a quiet, dim light onto his face, bathing it in blue and making him look ethereal.  It creates the illusion of an underwater bubble, encasing them in a world outside of reality.

Matteo shrugs, unwilling to tell the whole truth but reluctant to lie.  “Things were a bit shit at home, so I bailed. Needed somewhere quiet to smoke.”

“Mmmm.”  There’s a hint of agreement in David’s voice, an edge that speaks of something Matteo can’t quite put his finger on.  But it’s quickly consumed by the laugh that comes next.

“I like to explore these sorts of places.”

Matteo nods as if he gets it, but he doesn’t.  Not really. The only delight that comes from this space for him is the joy of being unseen and unfound when he’s feeling like crap, and any happiness he feels from it is a muted one.  One that reminds him of how utterly alone he is even when he doesn’t want to be. As if David understands exactly what Matteo is thinking, he laughs and passes the weed back to him. 

“It’s a different way to look at the same thing,” he says.  “Like you can be king of everything you see here and no-one can take it away.”  He stops for a few seconds, eyes traveling over Matteo’s face as if trying to find some sort of meaning.  After a second or two, David’s eyes flit over to the graffiti on the walls opposite them, barely discernible in the torch’s glow, and he adds, “there’s something really beautiful about these abandoned places.”

Matteo can feel his face twisting with the pain of that thought.  There’s nothing beautiful about being abandoned. David nods again, his eyes thoughtful as he sucks in a drag of the weed, and the crinkle of the paper burning stills some hurt thing in Matteo.  He’s not alone. Not right now anyway, not here in their small bubble. He takes the weed back when it’s proffered again, feels it as a connection between them.

“I’ve never been to any others,” he offers, by way of thanks for the company.

“You should,” David says.  “Try in the daylight sometime.  There’s a bunker near the eastern side of the city, and an old factory in the middle.  That one’s my favorite.”

The gaze he turns on Matteo is intense.  He looks wistful, too, as if he wants some sort of response but doesn’t expect any, so Matteo offers the weed again.  David’s eyes slip shut for a brief moment before he accepts and takes another drag, this time turning his head so he can stare upwards, allowing the light to gleam on his jawline.  Matteo finds his breath catching in his throat and swallows. He turns his own head so he too can look upwards. The circle of light doesn’t extend far so he can’t see anything beyond the darkened blur of the sink’s outline where it sits jagged in the counter, and the vivid splashes of paint behind it which are rendered dull by the light.  It allows a sense of peace. There are no worries here about what sits on the other side of that emptiness. It’s just space and shared breaths.

The weed dwindles quickly, the hurried puffs they’re forced to take less satisfying.  As the last glowing embers sputter out between his fingers, Matteo sighs. Beside him, David stirs.  As if he can sense the end to the fragile moment he shuffles, his feet squeaking a little as they drag on some peeling flooring.

“I should go,” Matteo says, hearing his own goodbye in the way those shoes slide then grip as David stands.  He holds his hand out to Matteo, who takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. David’s fingers are warm around his own and Matteo shivers, suddenly aware of how chilled his body has become in the darkened and unheated room. He lets his breath out in a startled rush and sees the light spiral as it mists in front of him.  He laughs.

“Definitely need to go,” David agrees.  He bends to retrieve his torch, splintering the light as it bends around his legs, and cuts into the illusion of the bubble they’ve been inside.  David smiles then starts making his way through the kitchen and out into the main space. The loud echo of his steps again piercing the silence and further shattering the bubble they had just been wrapped up in.  Matteo follows, so focused on his shivering body and chilled hands that he fails to notice the direction David heads in after they slither out through the window Matteo had used to enter. Kicking himself, wishing that he’d asked for David’s number somehow, Matteo resolves to try to find him again anyway.  Being with David had been more restful than any moment he’d shared with his actual friends for too many long months, and Matteo feels the coil of a desire for  _ more _ starting to wind itself into his belly.  Maybe he should check out some other abandoned site, maybe that factory David had mentioned.  Maybe he’ll get lucky.

Dragging his jacket as close around him as he can, Matteo turns and faces his own apartment building and makes himself head back towards all the mess that awaits him there.


	2. Artistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, none of the places they visit in any of these chapters is an actual real place. There was nothing that exactly fit what I needed each one to do, though all are a mixture of a variety of actual places (though not all in Berlin). Think of this as both an alternative city as well as an alternative meeting!

Matteo doesn’t necessarily expect that David will be there when he first arrives at the factory.  That would be absurd, some kind of destiny-tying-us-together bullshit. And yet, he can’t quite stifle the tiny shiver of disappointment anyway.  In the days since they met in the abandoned apartment, Matteo has had trouble keeping his thoughts away from the boy. They skitter in that direction whenever he’s unfocused, which is alarmingly often.  He remembers the way David’s face softened as he looked at Matteo, the soft gleam of his piercing glinting in the subdued light as he turned his head, the tilt of his mouth as he expressed his amusement.  Matteo has been so distracted that Hans has even started calling him out on it, asking in concern if he’s going back to his old ways. His isolationist ways. Swallowing a small pang of guilt at the near lie, Matteo always shakes his head.  One panicked reaction doesn’t mean he’s sliding.

Still.  The attempts to get David out of his mind haven’t been successful so Matteo finds himself in this derelict building in the middle of the day the following Saturday.   _ It’s my favorite, _ David had said.  So he must come here, at least occasionally.  If this is the right place, that is. Maybe there’s some other abandoned factory in the middle of the city.  Maybe David is there right now, wondering if Matteo will ever find it. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

Shaking off the thought, Matteo steps forward, his feet crunching a little as the broken concrete shifts under them.  It’s quiet, but not the echoing quiet of the apartments. This is more like the hushed still quiet of a garden, with a vague buzz of the world outside from distant cars and hovering birds, but it’s all muted as if they’re far away.  Matteo tilts his head, lets his eyes drift over the space before him, soaking in the wide open expanse and trying to decipher what it is that appealed so much to David. It’s much lighter than the apartments they’d met in, the roof has caved in and is now open to the elements letting broad shafts of warm sunlight into the main chamber.  

The walls are heavy yellow stone, mellowed with age, rubbed almost raw in places where the wind and the rain have etched a faded history.  Large metal barrels line the walls on either side, a clear nod to the industrial past of the building. However, they have all been repurposed as canvases for a variety of art.  They’re coated in a thick layer of dust and dirt, have obviously been here a long time, but the dulled colors that can be seen through the grime still speak to Matteo. Each one is as different from the next as it’s possible to be, but all somehow work together.  The colors and shapes on one echo through the others as if they were a conversation between their creators. Matteo isn’t an artist, but he likes the way they make him feel, as if you really can take something old and unwanted, something neglected and run down, and turn it into something new and striking.

He wanders, runs his hands along each one, comes away with a coating of dust on his fingertips, and leaves vivid slashes in the paint where he’s rubbed off the protective dust.  They come alive under his fingers, tiny ziplines of bright color in an otherwise subdued world. He hums, charmed. The sun crawls up the walls as he examines every one, runs his fingers through specific parts to draw out the colors he likes.  It finally dips behind the towering wall at the far end of the factory leaving a long, dark shadow over the bulk of the room and Matteo reluctantly turns his attention to his grumbling stomach.

He leaves.  But he returns again the next day, bringing his headphones with him.  It’s not even a hope that he’ll see David this time, but rather a sense of peace he’d soaked up while he was there.  There’s something about being surrounded by so many tiny pieces of other people that makes him feel less alone, something he hasn’t really believed to be possible lately.  Whether or not this is the place David had intended him to come, Matteo loves it anyway. It pulses with an energy that says ‘David’ regardless of his presence or intentions.  

Matteo’s not even sure why that is; he doesn’t know much about the other boy, after all.  They had shared one joint and a few lines of conversation. And maybe that conversation had all felt weighted and meaningful, but it was still sparse and shouldn’t be enough to have got a sense of who David is.  And yet, Matteo feels like he does know. He’s someone who’s quiet and deliberate with his words. Someone who thinks carefully before he speaks, someone who shares only what he’s certain he wants known. He finds amusement in small things, joy in the underbelly, beauty in the damaged.  He’s restful.

Matteo slides down a wall facing the barrel he’s most fascinated by. It’s a chaotic mishmash of swirling colors, none of which seem like they should work together.  And yet they do. They’re all so diverse, bright bursts of color vying with more muted shades, but together they all form some kind of harmony. Tracing the patterns as they whirl together then spin apart is calming and Matteo smiles as he settles down against the wall.  He tips his head to the sun, revels in the warmth on his face as he traces the patterns through half-lidded eyes.

He’s lost in thought, music flooding his ears as he loses focus in the swirls of color on the barrel.  It’s so quiet and still despite the music, and even though it’s not dark and it’s not closed in, it still reminds Matteo of the time he spent with David.  It has the same dreamy, otherworldly quality of a place outside of time. Even with the weeds spiking their way out between cracks in the concrete floor it feels so very deliberate and human.  There was something very human about the small bubble he’d shared with David too, something connected and real. He sighs, leans his head back against the wall, closes his eyes and basks in the feeling of sun on his face, the warm way it sits on his clothes too.

There’s a scuffle at the doorway, shoes crunching on the broken concrete, making it rasp as its broken edges shift against each other.  Matteo jerks, heart stuttering in his chest as he bounces to his feet and drags the headphones off his ears. He lets his breath whistle out between his teeth when he sees David appear around the edge of the largest of the metal objects and slumps in relief back against the wall behind him.

“Scared?” David asks with a grin, and Matteo feels the air punch out of him properly this time.  David was intriguing in the dim light of the abandoned kitchen, but here he glows and Matteo has to drag his eyes away before he stares too long and too hard.

“I don’t get scared,” he mutters, hears the tiny snort as David moves deeper into the wide space.  

He spins, his face bright and easy, then turns to look back at Matteo with his arms outstretched.  He’s so obviously interested in what Matteo thinks that Matteo can’t help but grin. “What is it about this place?” he asks, tries to keeps his voice level and controlled but can hear the way it softens, responds to David’s presence.  Tries to ignore the betraying thump of his heart every time he lets himself look at David.

David doesn’t answer immediately, rather walks to one of the barrels, runs his own fingers over the marks Matteo had made yesterday.  Hums, tilts his head, then looks back over his shoulder at Matteo.

“I like art,” he says.  “I like this place because of all the artists that used to use it.”

Matteo looks around him, for the first time really absorbing how long it must have been since the artists had left their mark.  It could have been years, given the amount of dirt caked and crusted onto so many of the paintings. The sunlight reflects dimly off the one closest to David, exposing hints of gold, and sending small prickles of light over his face.  It’s glorious, even in profile like this, the burnished gold of the painting lending a warm glow to David’s tan skin. Another unaccustomed wave of attraction swamps Matteo, spreading from his chest down through his fingertips. He pulls his eyes away, finds himself fixated on the cracks in the concrete at his feet instead, marveling at the way the straggling green of the grass pushes its way through into light.  None of this suggests that people spend much time here.

“People don’t come here?” Matteo asks, and cringes almost immediately.  It’s such a  _ banal _ thing to say, does no service to the way this place has made Matteo feel, but David’s face lights with a new inner glow and his smile flashes again.  He turns back to the barrel and gently runs his fingers so they expose a new series of lines in the paint, cutting directly down through Matteo’s. Together, the crossed marks expose a swirl.  One, in a dark blue, almost black, but with a warm hint of something reddish that saves it from coldness, curls around, but doesn’t meet, another that’s mustardy yellow. The harsh lines the boys’ fingers have left are the only points of contact between them.  There’s a synergy between the colors but they give Matteo a hollow feeling as they brush close but don’t touch. His fingers itch to push them together, to make them connect and bleed into one. 

“No one really comes anymore,” David says, his fingers brushing lightly over the scraps of color again, exposing more to the light and making the swirls curl tantalizingly close to each other.  “Once it was all finished, no one wanted to cover over any of it so they found other places. And it’s too open for squatters.” He nods at a wall behind two of the barrels where there are a series of black tags, the slashes of dark paint harsh and incongruous in the soft, warm room.  “Only people who do that still come these days.”

“And you.”

David doesn’t answer, seems once again to be caught up in something in his head.  He’s staring up at the top of the barrel a little way above their heads, his fingers still pressed against one of the mustard swirls.  Matteo can’t tell what it is that he sees, what it is that makes him smile in such a pensive way, and there’s a part of him that yearns to see it too.  He wishes he had the soul of an artist, that he could see more than the brightness of the paint or the way a particular object lined up against another one makes him feel.  He wishes he could extract meaning from them. But like so much in his life, he can see that there’s something there but he can’t make the connections. The lines David made in the paint, covering and connecting to his own, showing the close swirls of the two colors, seem to be trying to tell Matteo something, but he can’t figure out what it is.  

Then David turns back to Matteo and raises his eyebrows in a silent question.  Matteo shrugs, but follows when David moves to the far corner of the room and leads him to the rounded end of the barrel.  Matteo hadn’t come this far yesterday, hadn’t been interested in the ends of each metal tube, most of which were covered with what he thinks of as more normal graffitti: large letters, bold colors and no discernible meaning.  This one has been heavily tagged, the blacks and greens of the spray a discordant note in the colours of the rest of the room. In one corner, though, are a series of small pictures, pasted over top of some of the tags. The paper is faded, browned, as if it’s been here as long as the rest, but there’s no dirt or dust on this small part.  It’s lovingly kept.

Moving closer, Matteo notices the slight tremble in David’s fingers as he touches them, and realizes what he’s seeing.

“Did you do this?” he asks, his heart starting to pound.  It means something, that David would send him here to this place.

“Yeah.”

Silence surrounds them apart from the distant buzz of the cars and Matteo can barely breathe.  David’s eyes flick to his. There’s something desperate in them, something Matteo recognizes. He smiles, lets his awe show on his face.  Steps closer again.

They’re rough in many ways, these pictures, with deep hard lines etched into the pages in a scrambled, raw way that nevertheless depicts something deep and real.  A bird exploding upwards in a brutal show of energy. A hooded man, slumped and dejected. A series of faces, all set in frowning, creased lines. Each one has been placed deliberately, each one covers a tag, the dark lines of the paint underneath showing through and fighting to overpower the designs on the top.  It doesn’t look happy, speaks of desperation, and something sad clutches in Matteo’s throat. There’s a sense of an ongoing struggle, none of the pieces looks like it can rest as they all battle against the darkness underneath them, and each floats as thoroughly disconnected from each other as Matteo feels from the world.  It’s powerful and for once Matteo thinks he can get a sense of the artist from the art. He swallows, forces the unwanted sadness back down into his chest, looks back over at David.

“It’s good.  You’re really good.”

David smiles, looks carefree.  His face is such a stark contrast to the vivid impression Matteo got from the pictures that he wonders if he was projecting, imagining himself into the story being told on the rough and ragged pieces of paper.  The tension that had decorated David’s face a few moments earlier is now lost in a wide, bright grin. Matteo is helpless against that, and his bleak thoughts dissipate. He grins too. David’s gaze flickers down, seems to snag on Matteo’s lips.  The look sends a frisson of heat through Matteo’s body and he licks his lips. David’s smile softens.

“Thanks,” he whispers, his eyes returning to look into Matteo’s.  The air around them seems to still and Matteo can hear his breaths loud against the silence, and the echoing murmur of David’s.  He gulps, has to drag his own gaze away from the intensity. Hears the whistle as David lets out his breath and the shuffle as he turns away too.  

They wander, David pointing out the pieces he likes best, and doing his best to explain to Matteo what meaning he gleans from each one.  It still makes little sense to Matteo, but he could listen to David’s voice for hours. Could watch the way his face bounces from expression to expression like an excited puppy as he describes his visions with his hands out in front of him, laughter bubbling out often and drawing Matteo’s own in return.  Matteo says very little, but he realizes he doesn’t need to. Even David’s explanations are interspersed with long periods of silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. A lot is said in the silences, in the small glances and shared smiles.

Eventually they wind down and lean slumped against the tallest wall, looking back down the lines of the barrels.  Matteo sucks in a breath as he realizes how long it has been since he felt so calm with someone. He turns his head, lets his gaze rest on David again.  Smiles. After a few beats, David turns to looks back. “I need to go,” he says. Matteo nods, but something squeezes in him at the thought of leaving this all up to chance again.  He wants to see more, to know more about this boy. He has a horrible feeling that if he drops this now he loses the chance at something. At a friendship that feels real for once

“Can I have your number?” Matteo asks, feeling bold.  It’s been a long time since Matteo has wanted to do something proactive, but finally he wants this, wants to reach out, take a risk.  Do something. “This is cool,” he clarifies as David’s face shutters and closes for a fleeting second. “I’d like to see more, if you’d like to show me.”

The slow consideration returns.  The way David had examined Matteo in the dim light of the apartment, eyes sliding up and over Matteo’s face, searching for something.  He observes Matteo for several beats where he forgets to breathe. “Okay,” he agrees finally.

It feels like a victory.


	3. Solitude

It’s a slow grind over the next few days.  Matteo’s head isn’t in his work or with his friends and housemates; instead his thoughts flit ever more often towards David.  He continually glances down at his phone.  _ Hey it was cool with you yesterday. _  The words are always the first things that appear on his screen whenever he opens the phone.  They make his lips twitch upwards every time; David had cared enough to reach out and try to make a connection.  Something tiny and hopeful starts fluttering in Matteo’s stomach whenever he looks at them. Not that he wants to define what he’s feeling, but the anxious, yearning hopelessness of his old crush on Jonas felt very different to this.  This seems more like a hopeful caged bird, ruffling its wings and waiting to be freed; the other was a hurt and hunted beast, locked away in a dungeon and struggling to breathe. On the few occasions when their eyes had met, Matteo had felt a different sort of intensity in David’s gaze, something that hinted at potential.  Something that hadn’t existed in Jonas’s.

His own words blink back at him under David’s.   _ Yeah it was cool.  You know another good place? _  David hasn’t answered despite the days since Matteo has sent it.  He tries not to read into it, pushes down the twist in his belly and the swelling anxiety in his chest, reminds himself that people are busy and have lives.  Tells himself that David owes him nothing, promised him nothing. It helps a little, allows him to breathe, even if those breaths are small and shaky. But he still flicks his phone on several times a day to check.  He still hopes that David will give him a new space to explore. It’s a new feeling, this interest in the world around him. He’s been living so long in an apathetic cocoon, and it feels a little like breaking free. David or not, potential or not, it’s good to feel a little less like he’s drowning in sludge with no way out.

Matteo’s phone lights up and he glances down in a reflex.   _ Here, _ the next message reads, along with a set of coordinates.  He can feel the smile blooming unbidden on his face. Another message quickly follows the first.   _ Saturday at 11. _  Matteo can feel the burning ache of his mouth as his lips widen into a grin; it’s almost painful how unaccustomed a smile this big feels.  He’s energized at the very idea of being out of the flat again, of being somewhere new and unexplored. Of being with David again. The caged bird flutters hopefully inside him as he glances down at the words, making sure they’re still there and he hasn’t just willed them into existence in his imagination.  

They’re still there.

By the time Saturday comes around and he’s starting his journey, Matteo is shaking.  His fingers tremble as they hold the phone with the directions to the damn coordinates, making it hard to focus on where he has to go.  The bus he has to take is loud and rattles when it pulls away from the stop. Its brakes screech as it rumbles onwards towards Matteo’s destination, the sharp sound grating and setting his teeth on edge.  His eyes slide off the screen, too, flitting to take in the streets they’re traveling along. The place David is sending him today is so far away from his home and the security of his usual neighborhood that Matteo can feel the old clutch of panic as his breath sits clogging his chest and his heart thumps uneasily.  He wants to do this, but it’s not easy. The only thing keeping Matteo’s feet on the path is the thought of what lies at the other end. If he lets himself give in and go home then he doesn’t get to see David, and doesn’t get to experience another of those places. So he lets his breath out in an unsteady huff, slides his headphones on, plays some music, focuses on stilling his heart rate.

The site, when Matteo gets there, is beyond the limits of the city itself.  It’s so isolated that there’s no bus which can take him the entire distance, so he has to trudge the last mile or two.  He’s panting when he finally stumbles his way into the space in front of the building David has chosen this time. This one is darkened brick, falling apart in some places as exposed bricks crumble through weathering and lack of maintenance, but it looks mostly well preserved.  It stands tall and imposing in the unkempt grounds, as striking as it must have been in its heyday. There’s a very official looking sign on the gate at the front warning everyone to stay out. The sight makes Matteo uneasy, puts a tremble back into his fingers; while he’s always known these adventures aren’t strictly legal, he hasn’t had a sense of actually breaking any laws before.

He’s biting his lip and staring at it with a heart that’s beating too fast and hands that are clammy with cold fear when he hears a cheerful whistling coming from behind him.  He spins, can’t help the grin that flashes onto his face at the sight of David. He looks good, his hair messy in the slight breeze and his scarf bundled easily around his neck.  His smile is wide and his eyes glint when he sees Matteo.

“All okay?” he asks, tilting his head to look Matteo up and down as if he can sense some of the turmoil racing through his body.  As if he wants to still the shaking, as if he wants to touch. His eyes awaken the fluttering, hopeful thing in Matteo’s belly, and he has to drag his own gaze away, swallow down his excitement, to avoid exposing all of that on his own face.

“Yeah,” Matteo agrees.  He nods back at the building.  “We’re not supposed to go in.”

David’s eyes twinkle in amusement and his laugh rings out, a rich sound that thrills Matteo to his toes.  “I didn’t think you’d come,” he says.

Matteo shakes his head, bites his lip.  He’s not going to admit that he almost didn’t come because he was so affected on his way here.  Even now, his blood is racing through his veins, the anxious buzz an ever-present hum. Though that may be because David’s presence is affecting him again.  The breathlessness he’s experiencing doesn’t seem related to panic at all. It sits in his belly, floats in his chest, makes his knees weak. Makes his heart flutter.  Or maybe it’s the walk he’d just been forced to take; it’s been a long time since he’s had to exert that much effort, and reminds him of just how much time he’s started spending inside.  He’s tired in a way he’s not used to, feels the exhaustion of having done something physical which weighs down his bones but energizes his thoughts.

Laughing, David brushes past Matteo on his way to the gate.  It towers above them, and that’s another problem. Matteo’s not sure he can climb it, but David’s already over and staring back at him, a quiet challenge in his eyes which are fixed on Matteo’s.  The soft warmth in those eyes gives him a push and he reluctantly clambers to the top and then maneuvers so he’s positioned in a way that means he can just drop down to the other side rather than having to climb.  He feels accomplished, not just because the look David gives him is approving as he stares up to where Matteo is perched, sending warm thrills through his body. But also because he’s doing so many things he normally wouldn’t; something clogs his throat and makes it hard to speak, something happy and proud, something that gives him an energy he’s not accustomed to.

He lands softly, knees bent the way he remembers being taught in school, then stands.  He realizes he’s very close to David, closer than he’d expected when he’d planned this jump.  He can see every tiny flicker as David’s eyes change intensity, going from amused approval to something deeper, something that holds more purpose as he too realizes just how close they are.  Once again, David’s gaze flickers down to Matteo’s lips, and once again he sucks in a breath as they return to catch his own gaze. David bites his lip, eyes warm as they look into Matteo’s, and the space between them is so small that Matteo knows he could just close it with one tiny step.  He’s pretty sure that David wouldn’t stop him either; there’s a breathless feeling to the way his body is being held, an expectation in the way he leans towards Matteo. 

He’s just about to do it, to close the gap and say  _ fuck it _ to the world and all its shitty expectations.  But then a burst of noise pulls them apart and a small flock of birds explodes out of a nearby bush, shrieking their irritation as they fly into a higher tree.  The frantic rustling in the bush suggests they were startled by some wild animal. Heart pounding in his chest, breath still caught in the sliver of space between them, Matteo looks at David and sees his rueful smile.  Acknowledges it as he steps back with a shrug. The flicker of his eyes lets Matteo know they both realize the moment has been lost.

“This way,” David says instead and they plunge through the dense bush towards the brick house.  It’s obvious it used to be a grand house once, and a fairly big one. Matteo shudders. There’s something about it that’s foreboding and unwelcoming.  The sense of history and loss it represents is suddenly a very real presence with them, and its looming, ominous facade speaks of pain and struggle. David seems unaffected, however, so Matteo shakes the feeling off then realizes he’s fallen behind and takes little running steps to catch up with him.

David circles the place, his eyes running over the foundations as he searches for something, some sign that only he will recognize.  Matteo has no idea what they should be looking for so he walks silently beside him, trusting that he knows what he’s doing. It takes a few minutes, and almost a complete circle of the building before David lights up and grins over at Matteo.

“Let’s go in,” he says, bending down and scrabbling in some of the mess laying around.  He tugs on a half buried wooden door which has been sunken into the ground, but it hardly shifts and he grunts his displeasure.  Pulls harder. Matteo steps up next to him and pushes the last of the leaves and mulch off it, releasing an earthy, almost unpleasant, smell of rotting vegetation in the process.  It works, though, and David glances sideways at Matteo, then grins his pleasure as the door shifts in his hands and opens enough for them to slide in underneath it.

Once inside, they don’t move far.  Where they’ve entered it’s underground, some sort of basement, and there’s a damp, mouldy smell wafting in the air.  Matteo crinkles his nose as he rubs his hands on his clothes, wants to ask when they’re going to move, but one look over at David stills his tongue.  He has one hand on a wall and is looking pensively into the distance. His face is angles and shadows in the gloom, broken only by the small torch he’s holding.  It’s tilted towards the ground, forgotten in the wake of whatever has caught David’s attention. He looks like he doesn’t want to be disturbed, his face drawn and unhappy, and Matteo wonders if he should even be here too.  This seems like something private for David. He holds still, trying hard to keep his breathing quiet, stifling the gulps of air he wants to take. It reminds him of the day he was in the abandoned apartments, alone before David had arrived.  Then, he’d been worried about disturbing the place, wary of disturbing its restful quiet. Now, he’s fully aware of David, and wants only to ensure he doesn’t intrude on  _ him.  _

He smiles.  It’s an opportunity to observe David again and Matteo takes full advantage.  His breath catches again as he remembers the second outside when he’d considered kissing David.  It was new; not the want (he’d wanted to kiss Jonas for such a long time, after all), but the knowledge that he probably  _ could _ .  That David might want it too.  That the potential that had been there since the very first weighted glances in those old apartments is heavy in the air, ready to be acted on.  David’s lip is caught between his teeth as if he’s thinking deeply, and in this dusty light, hidden from view, Matteo allows himself to admit just how gorgeous he finds him.  His fingers are so sure and steady, long and careful as he touches the world around him. His eyes, downcast now as he thinks, are so expressive, say so much with every new shift in expression.  The lines of his face draw Matteo in, and the way his jaw darts down to meet his chin, working as a frame for his lips, makes Matteo’s heart stutter. Those lips ...

There’s a soft quizzical sound and Matteo drags his eyes back up to David’s, sees the amusement there.  He flushes, knows he’s been caught in the act and god knows what his own face was showing or how long David had watched him staring.  But he doesn’t seem to mind, steps forward as his eyes glint a challenge. Matteo knows what it’s about, knows that here in this dark underground place that stinks of decay he can take a chance and do something he has wanted to for what seems like an eternity.

Before Matteo can react enough to act on the thought, David’s lips are on his own, briefly, and Matteo can hear the small hopeful noise he makes as they part.  Their foreheads remain connected and the fluttering in his belly reaches a peak, a painful, tight ache in his chest releasing before he even really registered it was there at all.  

“Do you believe in fate?” David asks quietly, and Matteo shivers.  There’s a weight behind the words, a real desire to  _ know _ sitting under the question, even as David smiles and pulls back enough to see him.

“Yeah, I like the idea sometimes.”

David nods as if Matteo said something wise.  His smile when it comes is sad again, pensive.  “I don’t like it. I’d rather free will, you know?  No one else deciding things for you.”

“Is that so bad?” Matteo asks, thinking of how much easier it is when others decide for him what he should think and do.  It takes some of the pressure off and eases the sting of always doing the wrong thing. Lessens the fear that if he does everything wrong again he might get left behind.  Abandoned.

“I’d rather decide to kiss, for example,” David says, his eyes flickering down to Matteo’s lips and setting that fluttering loose again.  “I want to make the choice, not have it be chosen for me.”

“Okay,” Matteo says.  He thinks he gets it. Thinks he understands.  It’s an alien idea, that someone might want to make decisions, but there’s something in David’s voice which speaks of his longing for that choice.  It’s clear that this isn’t just a throwaway comment, that Matteo could work out the infinite meanings of David from this one piece of knowledge. It resonates with something deep inside Matteo, something that feels like his apathy and hesitation could be holding him back.  “Okay,” he says again. “Then maybe … we choose to kiss.”

“Maybe we do.”

David laughs, and it’s the best sound Matteo has ever heard.  He wants to taste it, see what a laugh is like to kiss, so he presses forward, pulls David into him.  It’s everything. The explosion in his chest almost aches as it loosens and drops away much of the tension and the worry that’s been Matteo’s for so long.  He revels in it. Feels hands caress his cheek as he dives in for more, feels every inch of David’s desperate need flooding into him. His own hands can’t get enough of David’s hair, of his jawline, his neck.  Of the way his skin feels under Matteo’s fingers, warm, a little rough where his hair is cut so short at the back. Pliant. Then he loses all sense of himself as a separate thing and falls into being part of a kiss, lets himself experience it in a way he’s never been able to before.

So this time when their lips separate, it’s a wrench and their foreheads still pressed together are all that anchors Matteo to the here-and-now reality that they actually did that.  That he actually kissed a boy he likes and had that boy kiss him back. He sighs, hears the shaky crack as he lets the breath out.

David steps back, his face alight and his eyes dancing.  He holds his hand out in an echo of their first meeting but this time there’s no weed to share.  This time, Matteo is the one who contemplates what’s on offer and reaches out, lets his hand settle into David’s.  It’s warm and strong, a steadying rock in the swirl of all the new emotions. He stares at it for a long while before sliding his fingers so they slot in between David’s.  There’s a squeeze, an acknowledgement, then David leads the way out of the damp ugly room but they still don’t climb into the house itself.

It’s cold now, and Matteo can see their breaths misting in the air.  Even in this dull light, he can see David’s face as the torch throws the torch’s blue light over it again.  That profile is still so gorgeous, more so now that Matteo knows how it feels under the tips of his fingers.  His smile lingers every time he turns to look at Matteo then glances away again, making Matteo weak as he sends his own back.

“You like this place?” he asks finally, out of an uncomfortable desire to cut through whatever it is that he’s feeling.  He’s never experienced something quite this intensely before, and he’s not entirely sure how to cope with the flood of emotions swamping his body.

David smiles, a precious small twist of his lips.  He turns his head, eyes gleaming as if he knows exactly what Matteo’s doing, then he shrugs.  “Never been here before, but I like this type of place.”

Matteo squints at him, unsure what he means.  Old houses? Damp basements? Far distant spaces?  As if he can sense some of that confusion through his fingers, David squeezes his hand again, a tiny pressure.  “Places where you can be alone. I like being by myself.”

He doesn’t elaborate and Matteo isn’t sure whether he should pry.  David’s not alone now, after all, and maybe he regrets that. There’s an awkward pain in the idea that Matteo, who is so used to being alone and seems to come alive only when he’s with David, should be intruding on David’s own preference for being by himself.  They walk more, playfully explore the musty underbelly of the house, the bowels where the bulk of the important work must have taken place, the things needed to keep a massive home running smoothly. The things that lay hidden underneath, ignored and cast aside.  It feels like a place where if catastrophe hit and the workers down here were gone somehow, the house wouldn’t be able to function. It’s so isolated, too, that help would be hard to get. Matteo says as much to David, who stops. Looks up and around at the dark walls, his eyes glistening with some emotion Matteo can’t quite decipher.  He waits, lets David think.

“I’d come somewhere like this if there was a catastrophe,” David says eventually.  “If all the people were gone. Somewhere private where you can wait it out and get through.”

“Just you?” 

“Yeah.”

“No one to stop you being alone?”

David tilts his head to look at Matteo and there’s a soft certainty in his eyes.

“Is it so bad?  Being alone?”

Matteo swallows, envies that certainty and the way David knows and is easy in his own company.  “Yeah,” he says. It’s his turn to stay quiet, to not elaborate on the reasons. Being alone is second nature to Matteo now; he can be alone even in a huge crowd of people.  But deep inside he knows he wants to feel more connected. It’s why the factory drew him in so much with its little snippets of other people’s lives, and why the isolation of this place makes him shiver with unease.  It’s one of the things that drew him to David in the first place; a sense that he knows these feelings too. A sense that they could share space and breath together and understand each other. That David also knows what it’s like to be alone even in the midst of people.  But the difference is that David says he likes that sense of solitude, wants it, and Matteo is desperate to escape from it.

He shivers, drags his eyes away from David’s and drags in another rasping breath.  He doesn’t like this line of thought. David’s hand is still warm in his and he moves his focus there, squeezes it himself, tugs on it a little to draw David’s attention back.  It works and David swings around so he’s standing in front of Matteo. His eyes grow fond as he lets his gaze drift down Matteo’s face to snag on his lips again. Warmth floods Matteo; he reaches out with his other hand and brushes into the thick hair behind David’s ear.  His eyes slip closed and he sways forward. Matteo leans in, too, cups his hand more firmly on the back of David’s head and connects their lips. Pushes the solitude away with another kiss.


	4. Transition

They text during the next week.  Not often, nowhere near as often as Matteo would like.  But often enough that he knows he’s still in David’s thoughts.  Matteo’s own thoughts veer back and forth. It’s not easy to pull himself out of the headspace he’s been in.  Being around his friends is even harder; they focus so much on girls and what they want to do with them that Matteo feels like he doesn’t slot in.  The newness of his feelings for David bumps up against their eager interest in being with girls, and is rubbed raw by the things they say. Part of him wants to just blurt it out, tell them all and be done with it but that part is shouted down by the part that wants to keep David secret, safe.  Behind all that, the fog sits, never far away and Matteo finds himself slipping into it more often than he expects. He stays in his room more and more, wanting to reach out and connect with anyone else, but not able to get past everything he’s keeping quiet. Through it all, however, the occasional text from David makes him feel like the caged bird could finally be free.   Despite all the ways in which he feels awkward and inadequate around other people, Matteo can’t quite keep the bubbling joy of having kissed David out of his system. He’s happy, and he can’t quite contain it.

Matteo’s phone buzzes and he glances down.  There’s another set of coordinates and Matteo’s heart rate picks up, pulse hammering as he looks at them.  His breath catches in his throat.  _ Finally. _  Not that he doesn’t love his friends, he does, but it’s been hard spending his time imagining kissing David some more and not being able to meet up.  The only small blip in his happiness has been the fact that he’d suggested a meeting to David a day or so ago and he hadn’t responded. Given the tone of their last conversation, and David’s clear implication that he values his privacy and his solitude, Matteo had wondered if he’s pushing too hard and too fast.  Wondered if he’s been seeing things that aren’t there, reading into one small kiss all the things he’s dreamed about. Wondered if he’s setting himself up for another, more painful, situation like the one with Jonas. Wondered if his focus on the kissing is deeper, imbuing it with more meaning than David did. Wondered if David even  _ wants _ to do it again.  

But here is proof that David does want to meet up, that he at least wants to see Matteo even if nothing else.  The memories of their time together have kept him warm through the week, and the occasional nod to what happened in their texts has sustained him even with the whisper that tells him maybe he’s giving it more importance than it should have.  But it’s been getting harder and the itch to bury his fingers in David’s hair is starting to ache in his fingers. The knowledge that he’s about to see David again, that they can possibly continue what they started, bubbles up inside Matteo and a giggle erupts.

Hans pops his head around the door and squints at Matteo, the suspicion on his face almost comical in its exaggeration.  “You’re very cheerful today,” he says carefully.

“Mmmm,” Matteo agrees.  He can tell his face is betraying him, can feel the delight that sits behind his smile, so he attempts to school it into something more casual, something that doesn’t expose every feeling that’s swarming through him.  Hans seems to pick up on the struggle because his smile slips a little and his eyes become more appraising.

“You’re allowed to be happy, you know that right?” Hans walks into the room and perches on the end of Matteo’s bed.  Matteo nods, swallows around a lump that’s belligerently pushed its way up and into his throat, feels the old traces of his sadness welling up again.  That’s not been an experience Matteo is used to, being allowed to be happy, and while he loves the way it’s making him feel, it cracks an ache into his chest.  An ache that still hovers so close to the surface that it’s this easy for it to come tipping out. Hans reaches out, offers his arms, and Matteo sighs. He lets himself fall into the embrace.  

“I know,” Matteo whispers.  He needs Hans to understand he’s grateful for his friendship, even if he doesn’t always show it.  “I’m trying.”

Hans nods his understanding.  “I’m always here to talk if you need it, butterfly.”

Matteo nods, and Hans leaves.  The peace Matteo has been feeling about the new meeting is gone along with the fluttery joy at the idea of seeing David again, and he bites his lip when he looks down at his phone. Why the hell is he like this?  Teetering so close to sadness even when he knows he should let himself be happy. Maybe this isn’t that great an idea. Maybe Matteo needs to stop being such a screwed up asshole before he drags someone else into his mess, his mess that’s so easily tipped out of him with one little comment.  Maybe he should be more alarmed that one person can so easily cut through the shit and make him feel so good. One person who has made his own desire for isolation fairly obvious and who probably doesn’t want all the things Matteo does. He leaves the messages sitting on his screen and turns to other things.  He needs time before he decides if he’s going to go.

 

Two days later and he’s still not sure.  Matteo hasn’t answered the text, despite writing and discarding so many messages he’s practically written a novel.  He sits on his bed, fingers running over the screen of his phone. It’s blank but he knows the messages hidden behind it so well he doesn’t need to see them.  The time, the date, the place. His body yearns to give in and go, and he’s missed David’s presence so much that it’s almost easy. He wants to see David, but he knows he has to be careful.  Despite learning so much from each meeting so far, Matteo still doesn’t feel he has the essence of who David is. Just that he’s easy to be with, makes Matteo laugh, and lights him up without even trying.  

Giving in to sudden impulse (and his own selfish desire to kiss and kiss again), Matteo throws a few small things into his backpack, and rushes out the door.  Why not, he argues with himself. Why not take the risk. There’s no way to get to know someone other than spending time with them. And if it falls apart, if Matteo messes it all up because he can’t deal with his own stuff, well he’ll cross that bridge later.  For now, David is waiting, and Matteo can’t resist the allure of meeting him again.

He checks, and checks again, when he gets to the site.  There’s no sign of David as yet and Matteo can’t believe this tiny shack can possibly be the thing David wants him to see.  It’s so broken and ramshackle that Matteo can’t quite believe it’s still standing. The boards are darkened and rotting, the makeshift door hangs tilted on the frame, barely holding on at the rusted hinge and sagging under its own weight.  The factory had been so vivid, beautiful in its own way despite being abandoned, unloved and covered in dirt, and the old house had a sense of mystery and grandeur despite it’s sadness. This just looks like a disaster, and no matter what he thinks or how he tries to reframe it, Matteo can’t see whatever sort of beauty might be found here.  It just looks depressing and unwelcoming. 

The day is overcast, rough grey clouds giving a melancholy air to the place which doesn’t help.  But Matteo doesn’t think any amount of cheerful sunlight would change the impression. It’s so very lost.  Worse, it’s surrounded by many others which aren’t in much better condition. The street is muddy, pocked by deep holes filled with sludgy water.  The sidewalk is thin, cracked in places, jagged edges tilted and dangerous for unwary stumbling feet. There’s an occasional building that looks occupied, lights seeping out around curtains pulled against the cold grey of the day.  But most look just as sad and abandoned as this one. It’s so different to everything they’ve seen so far that Matteo checks his phone again. This is definitely where he’s supposed to be.

As if the thought conjures him, David appears by Matteo’s side, making him start, and grinning at his success.  “Hi,” he says, and the sound of his voice makes Matteo immediately forget how uncomfortable their surroundings are.  He can feel the bloom of the smile on his own face and watches in delight as David’s softens in response.

“Why here?” Matteo asks, nodding towards the hut in front of them.

David doesn’t answer, instead pulling on the door enough so that the opening is big enough to squeeze through.  It makes an ominous screeching noise as it’s pulled, making the whole structure shudder an inch closer to collapse.  “Should we go in?” he asks, indicating with his hand for Matteo to enter first. Once they’re inside, the door drops back to its spot, creaking and squeaking as it does so, ending up hanging awkwardly from the single hinge.  It swings a few times, the flashes of light from outside rising and falling in time with its movement and making the space seem cut off when it finally drops into place and most light is shut out. It’s dim in here but there’s enough light to make out the corners of the room.  It’s tiny, only a few feet square, and there’s very little here. Just a few scattered boxes on the blackened concrete of the floor and a damp and mouldy blanket in one corner.

The curiosity is starting to consume Matteo when his eyes flick up and over to David, but he can tell David doesn’t want to talk about it.  His fingers are twisting restlessly against each other and he’s fidgeting on his feet. His mouth opens once or twice before he snaps it shut and turns his gaze onto Matteo’s.  Steps forward, makes Matteo’s breath catch in his throat at the haunted, longing look in his eyes. David hesitates a foot or two from where Matteo is standing, too far for Matteo to be content.  His finger reaches out, traces a line down the side of David’s pinky. David glances down at it then up at Matteo and smiles, a small quiet one that blooms slowly over his face. His finger moves, slides in between Matteo’s whose own fingers move to make room for David’s.  

“You didn’t say you were coming,” David says, his voice quiet as their hands slip easily together.  There’s a slight edge to it, a wobble that sighs over the syllables and speaks of his fears.

Matteo rubs his fingers over the back of David’s hand, relishing the feel of the skin, soft and warm under his fingers, smiles at the way David’s lips twitch upwards at the touch.  “Yeah,” he says just as quietly. “It’s been a bit shit at home and I didn’t know if I should.” He doesn’t mention the way being with him could fuck David up in so many different ways.  Doesn’t mention how selfish being here at all is. 

David nods as if he understands all that anyway.  He draws in a shaky breath and Matteo can feel the gentle caress of fingers on his own hand.  He swallows, feels the sudden shift in the atmosphere as they gaze at each other. The tension drops as David grins, quick and bright.  This time it’s David’s fingers in Matteo’s hair. This time it’s David who laughs when they get tangled in the strands. “You have too much hair,” he says.

Snorting, Matteo grabs his wrist and pulls the hand out of his hair.  He slides his fingers down and along David’s skin until he’s holding his other hand too.  “If that’s what you think, you just don’t deserve to touch it,” he responds. David laughs again.

“Okay,” he says, lets his eyes drift to Matteo’s lips again then flicks back up to meet his gaze.  “What do I deserve then?”

Matteo presses closer, brushes his lips over David’s.  Leans their foreheads together as he breathes out. Grins as David moves back in, kisses Matteo more firmly.  Time stops having any meaning, here in this tiny dingy hut. They drop their hands and as much as Matteo feels the loss, he can’t regret it as David’s hands rise to caress his ear, his neck, his cheek.  His own roam, cupping David’s face, moving to pull him in more firmly, resting gently on his neck, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse as they keep kissing until they run out of breath.

They dive in again and Matteo wonders why he’d ever considered not coming here.  Everything lives and breathes David, and not being this close to him is unthinkable.  He lets his fingers trail along the lines of David’s jaw as they take pauses, learning how to draw it out, how to slow it down, how to make each kiss linger.  Learning how to watch each other in between. Learning how David’s eyes flicker with a new intensity when Matteo touches his face in a certain way. Learning how his own skin responds to the soft press of David’s touch.  Learning how his breath stutters and catches when David caresses.

Unlike the other locations they’ve been to, this one is close packed with others and it’s not long before the sounds of the outside world intrude.  Matteo reluctantly steps back a small amount when the sound of a dog barking in the street outside snaps his attention back to where they are. He looks at David, sees the same reluctance in his face.  Smiles.

“You didn’t say why we’re here,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of David’s hair back into the swirling perfection.

David’s eyes close for a second, and he swallows audibly before he opens them again and sighs, looks at Matteo with eyes filled with pain.  “I … used to live here,” he admits quietly. The words hold tension, an ache that’s close to indescribable, and Matteo feels the shift in energy again as David shuts his eyes, dragging his gaze away from Matteo’s

“Here?  In this room?”

David nods, his eyes still closed and his breath whistling carefully out of trembling lips.  Matteo sucks in a shocked breath. He looks around again and it all takes on a much different light.  The damp trails on the walls where water has seeped in, the cracks that let in light but also would allow frigid, freezing air to whistle through on the coldest days.  The confined spaces, the lack of anything that makes it pleasant at all. He shudders and looks back at David. He’s twisting his fingers again, his feet shuffling in the dirt-caked floor.  He’s not looking at Matteo, but there’s a tension sitting in the rigidity of his neck and the way his lips are held together a little too tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Matteo says.  

David smiles.  It’s a small, fragile twist of his lips but it’s there.  “It’s been pretty shit at home for me too.” He says it as he sucks in another breath, eyes darting around like he wants to run away, but instead he settles his feet and juts his chin up.  Stares straight at Matteo. There’s a strong defiance to his stance and his eyes glitter a dare. “My parents don’t agree with … with me being myself. So I had to leave. I stayed here for a while before I found a better place.”

Matteo knows what that’s like, feels the tug of kinship again.  He thinks back to the first day they met in the quiet echo of an abandoned kitchen, when David had seemed to understand when Matteo said things at home were shit.  Matteo lets his breath out, can feel the sting of tears in his eyes as he thinks about David living here. Feels it sitting under his ribs when he realizes that David knows as well as he does the pain of parents who aren’t there for him in the ways that matter. 

“Fuck,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.”

They stand in silence for a few seconds.  David’s intense, his eyes are still not easy and he’s shuffling again.  Matteo thinks he might want to say something more, but he’s unsure how to ask about it.  Unsure how to invite a confidence that seems held so close to David’s chest. So instead, he takes David’s hand, squeezes it gently.  Tries to show without words that he’s here. Draws David’s eyes back up to his again. Smiles.

It’s quiet, eerily reminiscent of the first time they met, each sunken into his own thoughts; together and sharing breaths and air, but not really connected.  This time, however, there’s a small joining of their hands giving meaning to the space. There’s a wealth of untold things between them, but Matteo thinks they can deal with it if only they can stay connected in this one tiny way.  The chill of the space, and everything it has meant to David, is held at bay by the warm sincerity in the palm David holds pressed to Matteo’s.


	5. Isolation

It takes a while for Matteo to notice that David isn’t as present as he has been.  There’s been one text since the meeting at the hut, and it takes Matteo an embarrassing amount of time to work out it’s a cryptic song lyric.  _ You’re that lace trimmed danger. _   Matteo googles it, reads the other lyrics, but can’t quite understand what he’s being told.  That they’re getting closer together? He knows that, has felt it since the start in the old apartments.  It doesn’t make a lot of sense, why David would send that line to him at this time. It’s vaguely unsettling, makes Matteo tingle with an unknown fear.  

As usual, it feels like David is trying to communicate something but Matteo can’t quite dig deep enough to figure it out.  When they’re together, it feels like he knows a lot about the other boy. He certainly is the easiest person to talk to and Matteo, who never opens up to anyone, finds himself telling him things he can’t bring himself to share with anyone else.  It’s easy to be vulnerable around David because there’s never a sense that he’s judging. But there are so many parts of David himself that remain frustratingly out of reach. Mysterious. It’s been weeks now and Matteo is used to that, used to the way he dips in and out of contact.  Used to the way he chooses carefully what he shares and what he doesn’t.

Last time they met up, there was a strong sense that David was beginning to open to Matteo, that there was something deeper, more connected, developing.  Surely there was a reason why he told Matteo that he used to live in that place.  _ My parents don’t agree with … with me being myself, _ he’d said.  There was a depth to the agony in that voice at that time, a rich meaning in the way he’d stared so defiantly, his chin tilted up and a glitter in his eye, as he’d said the words.  It had seemed that this was the moment when the two of them were coming together. But after that text the next day, David had disappeared. The worst part was that it took close to a week before Matteo really noticed.  They’d met each weekend for the last four weeks and there was a comforting familiarity in that. Enough familiarity that Matteo had just assumed they’d carry on the same way this weekend. Enough that he’d been sanguine about the lack of texts, which hadn’t been all that unusual.  Enough that it wasn’t until Saturday dawned and David hadn’t responded to his own messages that Matteo really understood that they aren’t going to meet this week.

Frustratingly, Matteo has no other way of finding him, either.  That had always been part of the charm of their encounters. They had a connection, their phones, making a fragile bridge between them.  They were always there as a reassurance to Matteo that they could find each other again. But everything with David was also steeped in mystery and a sense of the hidden and the secret.  They lived their lives together in the abandoned other world, the world no one else wanted or needed. The world that could just be theirs. The problem is that Matteo has no way to know where to find David in that world now.  He’s at a dead end.

Over the next week, Matteo’s world, which had started to seem like it could blossom into vibrant color, loses a lot of it’s shine.  Grey seeps in at the corners, he starts snapping at his friends again, retreating into his bedroom to stare at the texts he’d received.  Trying to decipher what the last message had meant.  _ You’re that lace trimmed danger.   _ Matteo shivers when he reads it again, at the newfound emphasis he’s placing on the word danger.  He doesn’t know what he did, but there must have been something, some moment. Something that caused David to abandon him too.  Otherwise, it makes no sense that David would let him inside like that and then just disappear. 

Bricks pile up on his chest and Matteo finds it hard to breathe again.  He always manages to fuck things up somehow, being an asshole is second nature, but the idea that he’s unwittingly done that to David hurts.  He shakes his head, tries to push it away, tries to drown it in weed, hands shaking as he sucks in the hit. But the crinkle as the paper burns gives him no satisfaction now, and the hit when it comes is pale and doesn’t last long.  None of it helps. The hopeful, fluttering thing that had lived in his chest turns into lead, sinks to his belly and wears him down. 

He can’t stay in here, can’t endure the bullshit sympathetic glances and the soft words that nevertheless grate like sandpaper over his heart.  So he does the only thing he can think of, he retreats back to a place he’d seen with David, hoping that he can find him in some destiny-tying-us-together bullshit way.  Matteo allows one wry smile for his previous self who refused to acknowledge that’s exactly what he’d already been hoping for when he went to the factory that first time.

His feet drum an uneasy beat as he makes his way there again, hands shoved deep inside his pockets against the chill of the air.  His breath spirals in front of him, reminding him of the spirals of color on the painting they’d looked at together. His lips clench tight.  Matteo tells himself they’re shaking from the cold. By the time he gets into the factory’s main room there’s a light drizzle casting a pall over the space.  It’s not the beautiful, vibrant hues of a sunny day anymore, but rather a somber muddle of dreary blotches hidden behind the wet and darkened dirt that smothers them all.  He wanders sadly, fingers trailing again, but this time leaving wet muddy imprints concealing rather than revealing the art underneath. David’s pictures are still there, still clean.  In this light they look even sadder, the black of the tags underneath starkly obvious against the dampened paper. The sense of struggle and pain has increased and all Matteo can do is stare at it, a lump in his throat and tears stinging behind his eyes.

He draws in a harsh breath and wipes his hand viciously across his eyes, lets the rough scrape of the fabric settle him.  This is just how life is; harsh edges and abandonment. Nothing in this place is helping, and David isn’t here. Whatever Matteo was hoping to get out of this isn’t happening; it was a stupid hope anyway.  He shoves his hand back into his pockets, notes the shaking as the chilled blue of his fingers disappears. He snorts, bleakly. That’s fitting. Chilled and blue sums up his life. He slumps, dejected weariness pressing his shoulders down, and makes his way back to the flat, bundles himself into his room.  Matteo lights a joint, tries to gain solace in more weed. It doesn’t help, but it dulls the memories. Helps push the tiny bursts of pain away, whenever his brain tries to remind him of the good times. The conversations, the glances, the kisses.

It’s another day or two before he remembers.   _ I’d come somewhere like this if there was a catastrophe.  Somewhere private where you can wait it out and get through. _  David’s words.  The old house. Matteo shudders; that place holds too many memories.  Memories he’s been trying to ignore. It’s the place where they started something, the place where he’d finally thought he might just deserve some sort of life, even if it was a life hidden underground.  Still. It’s his only lead. Matteo pushes away the possibility that David might not want to see him; he’ll deal with that if he gets to it. Right now, it feels important to find him. Long days have bled into weeks while he’s been trying to think of what to do, weeks that have felt like an eternity.  Weeks that have made Matteo wonder if David and his laugh are just a dream.

The trip to the house is even worse this time.  There’s no hopeful joy around the possibility of seeing David.  Matteo knows it’s unlikely to happen. There’s a sense of shame built around the tiny sliver of hope that remains.  Of the idea of destiny tying them together. It really is a bullshit idea, and destiny doesn’t exist. Not for them.  Just two phones, one of them silent. He stares out the window as the bus rattles, forehead jiggling lightly against the glass, a thumping headache behind his eyes made worse by the rhythmic bounce of the bus as it moves.  The homes and businesses pass by, a steady blur of brick and stone. Matteo gets off at the stop at the end of the line, sucks in a breath and faces the long trawl up to the house. It’s isolated and abandoned, the perfect space for an isolated and abandoned boy.  David  _ could _ be here; he’d said as much.  But there’s no flutter in Matteo’s chest anymore, just the lead sunk deep into his belly and weighing down his legs.  He knows what he’s likely to find.

The gate is just as imposing, but this time there’s no admiring David to encourage Matteo over it, and he struggles, breath rasping as he drags his body over the top and plops down on the other side.  The straggle of the bushes and drooping trees doesn’t seem thrilling and romantic when he stares up at it this time; it’s depressing, a further demonstration of how far this place has fallen. All its imposing grandeur is lost in the pity Matteo feels for its ramshackle appearance.  He purses his lips, stops their quiver with an act of will, then forces his feet in the direction of the entry David had found last time. 

There’s a padlock securing the door they’d used, impossible to move.  The thump and rattle of the chain against it as he shakes it, is loud in the stifling silence of the woods.  Matteo is shocked by the sudden sting of tears behind his eyes, and the lump that presses against his chest and clogs up his throat.  He hadn’t realized how important being back here would be, how much he wanted to wander the basement and remember. This was the place where they’d kissed; this was the place they’d come together in a meaningful and real way.  It’s barred against him now. A concrete symbol of how far David has pushed him away. 

Dejected, Matteo resigns himself to keeping David only in a memory.  What they’d shared was a flash of light in the otherwise dreary landscape of his life.  Like the torch David had brought that first day, it created a tiny bubble around them but like the light that day it was always destined to be shattered, shown as the illusion it always was.  His limbs weary, Matteo goes home. He shuts himself away in his bedroom, unable to put up any sort of clever happy front anymore. Matteo pulls his phone out again, runs his fingers over the message one last time.  There’s no point in dwelling mournfully on something that will never be. 

Instead, he should focus on the good things, take some comfort in the happiness he’d had even if for such a short time.  He may never get any of it back, but it helps in the enveloping gloom of his room to know that there had been  _ something. _  The way they slotted together so quickly and easily, the way they could talk without speaking.  The way that Matteo felt something cold and sad breaking apart inside him when they were together.  They way it felt like David maybe felt something similar. Maybe it’s over now, but it was real even if it was hidden away from the light.  It was real in a way that will stay with Matteo, affect who he is as a person, even if this is all he’ll ever have of it. The memories.

Hands behind his head, Matteo stares up at the ceiling as morning drifts into afternoon and then into evening.  It hurts to remember, and he’s tempted to ignore it, pretend it didn’t exist. But there’s something bittersweet in it too.  Remembering David’s smile, the way it lit him from within and showed just how intensely he felt every moment, has a melancholy sort of happiness too.  The way he smiled, the way he looked at Matteo, proves that he wasn’t imagining everything. Even if he’s somehow fucked everything up, Matteo had David’s attention at least for this one amber moment.

His eyes close, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he remembers that first day.  David’s face, soft in the dim glow of the torches as he turned to Matteo with a grin. The thrill of recognition, of a sense of connection that ran through Matteo when they sat side by side in the cold.  David’s voice, warming Matteo with its passion and sincerity when he talked about the places he loved.  _ There’s a bunker near the eastern side of the city, and an old factory in the middle.  That one’s my favorite. _  David’s voice in Matteo’s memory is as clear as it was the day he first heard it, the words crystalizing in his head even as he thinks them.    _ There’s a bunker. _  His heart beating an erratic melody in his chest, Matteo sits up. _  A bunker _ .  The sort of place you really might go if you wanted to be alone.  The sort of place that’s perfect for waiting things out. The sort of place David might actually be now.

It’s darkening out already, the sun long since dipped behind the buildings and leaving only a faint glow to keep the sky from inky blackness.  Matteo knows this is the dumbest time to even think of doing what he’s about to do. His fingers are already chilled as he drags a jacket on over his clothes, and the dim light of dusk is going to make this task almost impossible once he gets there.  But the softness of the memories he’s been soaking in, and the recognition that David did mean it too,  _ must _ have meant it too, lends an urgency to Matteo.  Destiny may not be at play here, but Matteo sure as hell isn’t going to let David slip through his fingers if there’s any way he can do something to make it right.  He may be told to fuck off, and maybe he deserves that, but at least he can see if they can resolve this thing in person.

It’s not the easiest place to find, and the directions had been vague at best, so Matteo is sweating, body exhausted and mind coming up with all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this, by the time he’s standing in front of it.  It’s truly dark now, and the cold has sunk deep into Matteo’s bones even with the exertion of getting here. His breath ghosts in front of him, making uneasy patterns in the dim glow from a street light as he stares at the facade.  His hands are shaking in his pockets, the nonchalant pose he’s trying to keep up no mask for his desperation. Matteo sucks a breath in, notices how unsteady it is, can’t quite make himself believe it’s just from the cold.

Now that he’s here, Matteo is at a loss for what to do.  It’s a bunker, and by definition they’re not easy to break into.  It’s solid metal, cold and heavy, tiny cracks showing the entry but no other break in the forbidding exterior.  The peeling mustard paint isn’t enough to detract from how formidable the place is, its dark blue lettering still stark and clear even in the pale light.  There’s no convenient broken or boarded up window. There’s no handy door leaning on a hinge. It’s shuttered tight, no chink in its armor at all. Matteo reaches out to touch the lines of the barricaded door.  There’s one small dip where the two pieces join, but it’s firmly locked, the grooves too small to curl fingers into and wriggle. Matteo sighs, sees it as a physical presence in the cold air in front of him. 

That’s it then.  It was a stupid thought anyway, that a throwaway comment could lead him to David.  In the same way that the old house was closed up against him, so is this place. If he needed any more signs that this isn’t going to work, then this would be enough.  The metal is cold under his fingers, sucking all warmth and life out of him. He shivers at the idea, glances up at the bulky facade again. It glimmers in the streetlight, its cold presence an unwelcome reminder of everything he’s been feeling.

The cool glint of the flaking paint dims further, a shadow falling over the crack of the opening, obscuring it even more.

“Hey,” a voice says so quietly Matteo almost misses it.  A voice that’s shaking, a voice that sounds infinitely sad.

Matteo spins to look, feels a pain grabbing his heart as he sees David’s face.  It’s drawn, the circles under his eyes obvious even in this light. His shoulders are slumped, his body holding none of its usual vibrancy.  

“Hi,” Matteo says.  He nods at the building.  “I didn’t know if you’d be here.”

David’s face twists in a tiny, fragile smile.  “Didn’t think I would be,” he answers. His eyes skitter away from Matteo’s and he sucks in a breath, small and vulnerable.  “I just … wanted to be alone.”

Matteo nods.  “Okay.” His hands are itching to reach out, to trace the lines of David’s face.  Desperate to prove he’s really here after so many long weeks without him. But he can see in the way David is holding himself, curled in and protective, that he should keep his distance.  “I’ll let you be alone then. Just, whatever it is, you can call me if you want to talk.”

David nods, swallows.  The light is so dim Matteo can barely make him out, but his eyes are shining and it’s obvious they’re not tears of happiness.  It takes every ounce of strength Matteo has to turn and take the first hesitant step away. He’s done what he wanted. Told David to his face that he’s here.  Now it’s up to him. One more step, then another. He’s several paces down the road when he hears the footsteps, solid thumps on the concrete behind him.

“Wait.”

He turns.  Waits for David to get nearer.  Tries to smile, even though his heart is racing and he hears roaring in his ears.  Even though his palms are itching and his fingers are shaking. Even though he expects the worst.

“I don’t want to be alone now.”  David’s gaze becomes desperate, pleading as he holds Matteo’s.  His fingers twitch as if he, too, is having a hard time not reaching out.  “I just don’t know how to not be alone.”


	6. David: Unification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Sarah!! I know I did this backwards and you're getting the last bit on your birthday not the first bit, but I hope you enjoy anyway! I hope your day is wonderful and you get spoiled as much as possible because you deserve it <3333 I <3 you a lot and I'm so glad you're my friend.

Coward.     

It’s a harsh word, but it fits.  He’s learned over time that it’s better by far to be a cautious coward than a brave outcast.  People try to get close, try to worm their way into his life ( _and his heart,_ his brain whispers treacherously), but it’s safer to keep them at a distance no matter how drawn he might be to them.  No matter how much the taste of their kisses lingers in the still of long nights staring up at a ceiling long since devoid of paint.  No matter how much he wants to just say fuck it and let it all out and let Matteo in.

He’d tried, that day at his old sleeping quarters, shaking and almost sick with the anxiety of it.  Tried to say something to Matteo, but there was something in his eyes, some deep pain of his own that had stopped David in his tracks.  Something that spoke of camaraderie, of understanding, of _belonging._  He’d had to claw the words back, shove them deep down inside again.  Because a sense of belonging is even more dangerous than someone being cute and funny and having the ability to chill out and be silent when it’s needed.  More dangerous than the sweet addiction of kissing someone who kisses back. A sense of belonging might make David want to stay put, want to make connections.  And what he actually needs is to keep his head down, keep everything as undercover as he can, pass his exams, graduate and then get the hell out and move to Detroit.  Or somewhere. Anywhere that’s not here. Anywhere that he can avoid the possibility of being outed again.

So here he is, a coward sending song lyrics in a text rather than actually facing up to Matteo.   _You’re that lace-trimmed danger_ .  He’s _so_ fucking dangerous, Matteo; he’s getting under David’s skin.  There’s so much about him that just makes sense. There’s so much that says how easily they’d fit together.  David can’t risk it, can’t risk giving in to the parts of him which are so drawn to the other boy. He’s given too much already, risked his safety already.  Let himself feel all the bliss of the kisses and the conversations, the laughter and the games. It’s too close now, too near the edge of David’s willingness or ability to extricate himself from the heady joy every moment with Matteo brings.  So he retreats, feels it as a physical ache when he presses send.

He’s done harder things, David's sure of it.  But he can’t remember anything that slices into him in quite the same way this does.  He knows this is the wisest idea, laying low, hiding, waiting it out until these feelings stop tormenting him.  He _knows_ that, but it’s not that simple.  Memories flood through his mind whenever he’s not fully focused.  And even with his exams coming up, that’s more often than it should be.  He should be happy that it’s Easter, that there’s enforced time away from school, that he can’t accidentally run into Matteo during any of their exams.  Because even though Matteo may not be aware of it, David knows they attend the same school. He’s seen him from a distance, laughing with his friends, shoving them, huffing in the specifically Matteo way he has, as if their very presence is an imposition.  David turns and runs every time he sees them, of course. Because entangling his life with Matteo’s any more than it already is seems like such a dreadful idea. It’s better by far that whatever they had is left now in the gloom of the abandoned spaces. It’s safe there, protected from any shit that might try to ruin it.

So.  He should be happy that it’s easy right now to avoid Matteo.  Should be grateful that there’s no danger of seeing his messy hair or his charming smile.  Should be delighted that he’s not likely to run into him, falling prey to the way his face lights up and his laugh rings out.  Instead, David is restless. He wants to see Matteo, and his hands ache to hold Matteo’s again, feel the skin under his touch, run the silky strands of his hair through his fingers.  It’s a good thing that David pulled back when he did because this is skating far too close for any sort of comfort. This is close to being impossible.

The memories swarm again, refusing to be silenced.  David smiles, leans back against his wall. Maybe it hurts, but there’s no real harm in letting those blissful memories in.  Not now that he’s managed to extricate himself. Not now that the entanglement has been averted. It had been like a bolt out of the blue, meeting Matteo, and his presence has been like a dream.  One David let himself have for a few days too long because he was so drawn to him from the start.

The closed in, sullen boy in the apartments, sucking drags of his weed in a broken down room had stolen the breath out of David’s lungs.  He’d stood there, incapable of doing anything other than stare until Matteo had held out the weed in a gesture of companionship and his face had softened.  David had been well and truly fucked, right there and then. The fragility and vulnerability Matteo had shown in those first small bursts of communication had set David’s path to this point, where walking away from Matteo was a physical ache.  The one smile he’d given David had sat in David’s heart until he’d been incapable of staying away from the spots he’d mentioned to Matteo, even though he knew he shouldn’t give in to the way Matteo intrigued him. Drawn towards him in a way he’d never been drawn to anyone before.  Matteo’s dangerous, a compelling risk to David’s carefully constructed safety plan, and that had been obvious even that early on.

Then there was the factory, the way Matteo had been bathed in sun when David had arrived, his face stress-free and blissful when he leaned back against the wall, headphones on and a tiny smile flickering on his lips.  He was so relaxed while he still didn’t realise David was there and could see him through the gap in the old barrels. David had known then that he was walking a dangerous line, playing a dangerous game. But he hadn’t been able to stop.  When Matteo had breathed his awe over David’s art, when he’d seemed to recognize the meanings behind the pasted on drawings, it had really been too late at that point. Too late then to avoid this pain now. So David had carried on, through ever more risky meetings.  Had even come close to blurting out everything in the gross old shack that held so many difficult memories, and hoping that the look on Matteo’s face wouldn’t change when he knew. In the beautiful moments of that day David had come too close to making some sort of real connection that would interfere with his need to remain free enough that he can escape at a moment’s notice if the worst should happen.

He shakes himself now, allowing one tiny wry smile acknowledging that he’s not doing a great job of focusing on the good times.  That’s one of the harder things for him to deal with; he’s always had a tendency to dwell in the bad parts of his experiences, to assume it’s always going to be the way it was at its worst.  Having experienced the worst, it’s not difficult to see it coming again and again, not when he sees it happening to others around him and online. Not when it’s a daily reality for so many, not when it’s been _his_ reality.  So his safety plan, his sensible, considered, and reliable safety plan, sits there as his safeguard against it all, his insurance against what can and probably will come.  

But David has been reckless and risked a lot when he’s been with Matteo, has let him worm his way in between David and his plan.  It’s always been with a knowledge at the edge of his conscious that none of it could last; it’s always been tinged with a pang of impending separation.  But David’s been willing to risk his own devastation because of the sense of happiness Matteo has always instilled in him. There’s been something heady in the freedom he’s felt with the other boy.  They’ve been able to be playful, and that’s not something David often lets himself be. With Laura sometimes, maybe, but not many other people get to see that part of him.

“You see that pipe over there?” David hears himself say in memory as he closes his eyes, hands tucked up behind his head.  He hears Matteo’s laugh as if he’s sitting here right next to him, almost turns to see if he’s really there somehow.

“It’s too dark in here, David,” memory-Matteo said as he tugged a little on the hand that David was still holding.  “No-one could see any fucking thing.”

David had pointed his torch in the right direction.  “The red one,” he’d said, nodding towards it, and as he’d glanced sideways at Matteo he’d seen the tiny eye roll he’d given alongside the pleased smile that still sat on the edges of his lips.  The one that said he, too, had been overwhelmed with their kiss. The one that said he, too, was holding onto David’s hand because without that contact it might all feel like a dream.

“Okay,” he’d finally agreed, squinting in the harsh torchlight.  “What about it?”

“It looks like something out of a space epic.”

The look Matteo had given him, somewhere between impossibly fond and impossibly confused, had sent waves of delight through David.  He’d raised his brows in a challenge.

“You should let me make a movie about you here.  A space opera, where you’re the beautiful trapped ingenue who needs rescuing.”

Matteo’s laugh had rung out again.  “Fuck off. I don’t need rescuing.”

His voice had been light, soft with a giddy joy in being together and just messing around.  But there was also an edge to it, as if he knew he was lying. _You do, though,_ David had thought as he’d looked at this boy who’d wormed his way so easily into his affections.  And maybe that had been part of the attraction. That Matteo seemed to need what David had to give as much as David needed what Matteo was giving.

“Okay, sure,” David had said then, willing to ignore it if Matteo wanted to.  “Maybe you don’t need rescuing. Maybe you can just be a space pirate.” He’d pulled out his phone to film, pointing it at Matteo.  “Go on, do something interesting ... if you can,” he’d demanded, almost succeeding in keeping the smirk out of his voice. He’d dissolved into giggles when Matteo had given him a look which just screamed his offense.  

He’d got the finger Matteo had pulled at him then on camera, as well as the tiny smile and the start of the quick dart into David’s side to attempt to kick his feet out from under him.  The camera had tilted, losing its focus on Matteo as David had to bounce swiftly to avoid being knocked over. Their laughs had mingled, the only sound reverberating off the underground walls and making it impossible to tell who was who anymore.  For that one minute they’d been one, united.

David pulls the phone out on impulse and opens up the video.  It finishes shortly after that moment, with Matteo’s giggle still ringing as the camera films dingy ground and David grinds out an embarrassingly fond, ‘fuck you,’ from behind the camera.  David watches it again. And again. Each time feeling the twisting burst of pained nostalgia when he hears that laugh. He doesn’t deserve it, never did. Should never have let himself get close enough that Matteo’s laugh can do this sort of damage to his heart now that he’s protecting himself the way he always should have.

He sighs, flops back on the bed, groaning.  Apparently, trying to remember the good times in a cheerful, uplifting way isn’t going to happen today.  Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe David should spend some time with Laura, watch a movie, forget about Matteo. Maybe some day in the future he’s going to be able to remember this with some semblance of happiness.  But right now. Right now it’s too hard. Right now, he has to remind himself of just how important staying undercover is.

 

It takes days before David can smile properly again, before his heart stops bursting in painful agony every time he hears something that reminds him of Matteo, or sees a flash of blond hair and his heart stops for a second.  Laura watches with her usual calm attitude, but soon enough even she starts frowning when David enters a room. She never says much, knows David better than anyone, and realizes he’s not willing to talk about it. But her eyes never shut up and eventually it gets too much for him.

“What?” he growls as she places a plate of food in front of him and her eyes linger, a sheeny gloss on them that is seldom absent these days.  He glares at it glumly, realizing with a guilty start that it’s been far too many days since he last ate anything that resembled real food.

“I wish you’d let me help.”

David picks up a spoon, his one nod to her attempt to soothe him, but shakes his head.  “I can’t.”

Her mouth twitches, and he can tell she wants to say more.  She’s almost quivering with it. But instead she shakes her own head and takes a bite of her own food.  She jerks her chin at his plate.

“Okay.  I’ll leave you alone if you eat that.”

David sighs, dips the spoon into the bowl and swallows down a bite.  It’s wonderful, as usual, but he finds it hard to eat it, it’s so hard to force it past the clogged up mess of emotions that’s taken up residence in his throat and it sits heavy in his belly even when he does.  Eventually he drops the spoon and looks up at her, conceding defeat.

“I met someone,” he says and she smiles, a tiny relieved crinkle appearing at the edges of her eyes as she eats more of her own dinner.

“Okay.”  She waits, quietly, and he huffs a laugh.  Of course she’s not making this easy; her punishment for the long days he’s made her worry.

“I … uh.  I kind of … I think we broke up?”

Her smile slips and her eyes narrow.  It’s so familiar that David has to laugh.  It’s a bitter, strained one, but he can’t help it.  She’s always been like this when she’s about to tell him he’s a dumbass.

“What did you do?”

“Why do you think it was me?”

The look she gives him could stop trucks.  It’s the one she’s worn since he can remember, the one that says she sees right through him and isn’t going to justify his bullshit with an answer.  He smiles, lets his lips twist into a tiny recognition for her.

“I didn’t want to have to tell him,” he admits, hearing the stupid shake in his voice.  He risks a glance up at her, startles a sad, pained anger on her face before it softens into something sweet.

“Why?”

“Because it’s too risky.  He goes to my school; I can’t … I can’t deal with all that again.”

She sighs, leans her chin on her hand and glares at him.  The contemplation lasts too long to be comfortable, and David even manages to pick at more of his food just to avoid that stare.

“Okay,” she says eventually.  “I want you to remember when I found you at that shithole you were living in.”

David’s mouth twists, briefly.  That shithole. The place he’d lived for too many long days before Laura had found him, sick with worry after their parents had told her he’d run away and she’d searched the entire city for him.  Also the place where he’d almost let Matteo break through, almost let his guard down fully, almost obliterated all his sense of safety before he clawed it back into line.

“Mmmm,” he agrees, reluctantly.

“You went there rather than come here.  Why?”

He shrugs, uncomfortable, tries to avoid answering but she reaches out one foot and kicks him gently, forces him to look back up at her.

“I needed to be alone,” he says finally, his eyes sliding away from hers again.

She shakes her head, reaches out to pat his shoulder.  He lets his cheek drop enough to brush the back of her hand so he can soak in her touch a little.  “No,” she says, her voice fond but firm. “You wanted to be alone because you were scared.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not, though.”  She picks up her plate and takes it to the kitchen.  As she leaves to go to her room, she smiles back at him.  “Ask yourself what the worst might be if you take a chance in the time you have left at school, and maybe think about how you might feel if you don’t.”

He glares at her retreating back.  It’s easy for her to say; she doesn’t have the bone deep knowledge of exactly what might go wrong if he ever does let someone in.  If he ever gives someone that information again, allows someone to have that much power over him. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have everyone in your life look at you like you’re something wrong.

Still.  In some ways she’s right.  The effort of keeping Matteo out is exhausting.  The desperate need to see him again thrums in David’s body every day.  The urge to give in to that sense of connection, of belonging, gets stronger as time passes.  It was supposed to get easier but it hasn’t. Every day is a struggle, and it’s not one he even wants to have.  The self-preservation instinct, the one that still chills his blood and makes him want to flee again, it’s cracking.  The time apart from Matteo is shattering every resolution David has ever had. Laura’s words just shed light on that fact, on the fact that despite trying to extricate himself David is actually entangled.  And, as she’s hinting, he only has a very short time left of school. The worst, should it come, would only follow David for a week or two at most before he could escape completely and find somewhere to lick his wounds safely hidden away from prying eyes.  

Even so, it takes several days more before David can bring himself to do anything.  The mere idea of going in cold blood to Matteo, of telling him everything, sends panic flying around David’s body.  The things that could go wrong, the memories of exactly how fucking bad it could get, never leave him alone. Matteo doesn’t seem like someone who would purposefully do anything shitty, but it’s the terror in the act of handing your vulnerabilities to someone else with no real proof of how they’ll look after them.  It’s the fear that inadvertently he’ll do something or say something and then everyone will know and the laughs will start. The taunts. The sleepless nights. The worry that Matteo won’t treasure the parts of David that are so raw and aching, that David will find his fragile sense of self again trampled by someone he trusted.

Laura watches him again, and this time the silent message in her eyes is the same every day.  She wants him to stop running, but she’ll never say it in so many words. He’s grateful that her advice is always phrased in a way where he has the choice, where _he_ gets to decide what’s right for him.  She knows how it was at home. She knows how he felt when their parents couldn’t accept him fully.  She watched him as he dealt with the agony, knows what it all cost him. She knows all that, knows why he acts the way he does and she never pushes him into any one choice even as she lays those choices starkly out for him, but it’s obvious she wants him happy.  It’s equally obvious that she knows he isn’t and hasn’t been for a long time.

The quiet support she gives, and the way she never pushes him to do anything he doesn’t want to, eventually works its way through his fears.  It’s not easy, is never going to be, but David feels like he should maybe _try,_ like he should maybe give Matteo a chance.  He writes message after message, deleting as many as he writes and finally gives up.  He can’t get the words to do what he needs them to. They all sit too bright on his screen, both too much and not enough.  So instead, David essentially gives it up to the universe. If it wants them to meet then it will happen somehow. If it wants Matteo to have a chance.  

It takes time before David’s wanderings take him to the old bunker.  It’s always been the place he thought to go when he wanted to retreat.  He’d considered it, in fact, when he first sent Matteo that message. The impulse to run and to shed all the things and all the people that could affect him had risen scarily fast.  But Laura and her knowing eyes and unflinching support had stopped his feet. He hasn’t retreated, not this time. And maybe he should count that as a victory, but right now as he gets close to the bunker, he wonders if it might not have been the right idea after all.  Closing everything out is so much less complicated than having to face up to it. Even if he has a desperate hope that maybe, somewhere, he’ll run into Matteo and he can judge for himself whether he should take the risk Laura so clearly wants him to or whether he should give it all up for good.

David’s shaking as he rounds the corner, both from the cold of the night and from the idea of having to say something to Matteo if he ever sees him again.  He walks, still thinking it might have been better if he’d come here for real, shut himself off from all this pain and uncertainty. Even if it would have worried Laura, even if it would have cut him off from her support.  He both wants to see Matteo (the ache getting deeper and stronger with every passing day) and wants to avoid all the complex things he has to do and say, all the fears he has to face, if he’s ever going to truly let someone else in.  But maybe the universe will keep them apart anyway, maybe David won’t have to face up to anything even as he yearns.

He looks up, stops still when he sees the shadowed figure looking up at the bunker’s facade, his messy hair a giveaway even in the darkness.  David’s heart stills in his chest, then starts pumping at a rate that makes him feel almost sick, as fast and unsteady as it is. Matteo is here, and all David’s half-desperate hopes that destiny would be kind are shattered in the face of reality.  He’s _here,_ and it’s all so real now.  David has to decide if he really will say something.

“Hey,” he says, grimacing at how soft his voice sounds in the still of the air, and how cracked and shaky it is.  This is ridiculous. It has the desired effect, though. Matteo spins, the light from the street lamp glinting off his hair and sparking a pained nostalgia in David’s chest.  He’s always loved the way it looks under the dim lights they tend to find themselves in.

“Hi,” Matteo says, and there’s a breathless quality to his voice, a catch in it as if he’s having trouble believing his eyes.  David swallows as he takes in the dark shadows under those eyes, the paleness of his face, how hollow his cheeks look. Matteo’s eyes glint with something that speaks of a wary pleasure in seeing David again, and his mouth is soft around the edges the way David has always loved, but instead of reaching out Matteo nods at the building.  “I didn’t know if you’d be here.”

David can feel the small smile that flicks to his lips, knows he’s giving himself away with every heartbeat that passes.  Doesn’t really care. “Didn’t think I would be,” he answers. It’s the truth. Until he came here he didn’t even know if he was going to, allowed his feet to take him where they wanted, let the universe dictate his choices.  He shrugs, tries to offer some sort of explanation for the last few weeks. “I just … wanted to be alone.”

Matteo nods, his lips pressing together and a sad gimmer in his eyes in the dull light.  “Okay,” he says, his expression closing in as his gaze roams David’s face. Whatever he sees makes his face shut down even more and he adds, “I’ll let you be alone then.”  A tiny smile, a twitch of his hands as if he’s thinking of reaching out, but then stops himself. “Just, whatever it is, you can call me if you want to talk.”

David nods, swallows.  He can’t quite stop the rough thing that’s been clogging his throat for so long.  He can’t stop the sting of tears behind his eyes. He can’t help but _want._  This boy, who he’s been pushing away for so long, is still willing to give him everything, even the solitude David told him he wants.  It’s such an alien thought, that someone who isn’t his sister would consider him in these ways, that David is stuck, rooted to the spot as Matteo turns, his shoulders slumping as he takes a step away, then another.  And another.

David watches that boy walk away after having offered him an opportunity.  Offering but not demanding. Giving David the choice. He realizes he can’t do it, he can’t let Matteo walk away, not this time.  He takes a step himself, then another until he’s mirroring Matteo’s heavy footsteps.

“Wait.”

His voice is stronger than he thought it could be, less trembly, and he closes his eyes in gratitude.  Matteo pauses, his head drops. He turns, waits. Taking the steps is harder than anything David has ever made himself do before, and he’s shaking by the time he gets to Matteo, who has stopped and let David approach him.  He’s smiling, but it’s shaky, looks like it might fall off his face at one word from David.

“I don’t want to be alone now.”  The admission drags out of him. He holds Matteo’s eyes, because it’s only in them that he feels safe enough to say any of this.  He can feel his entire body shaking, his fingers painful as they twist around each other. His eyes lock to Matteo’s and he whispers the final bit.   “I just don’t know how to not be alone.”

Matteo’s eyes soften as they look at him, and he holds a shaking hand of his own out towards David.  David takes a deep, shuddery breath, glances up into Matteo’s eyes. There’s pain there, sadness, some anger.  It takes all the strength David has to untwist his fingers to reach his own hand out and let it settle into Matteo’s.  Their fingers slide together as easily as they always have as Matteo closes his fingers around David’s. _This_ has always made sense.  He looks at their intertwined fingers for a long minute before he lets his breath out in a shuddering gasp and looks back up at Matteo.

“I have to tell you something.”

Matteo’s eyes close and his fingers tighten in David’s.  He sucks in a breath and lets it out again slowly, the tremor in it clear because they’re so close and only breath sits between them.  “Okay,” he agrees, a wary tone in his voice even as it tries to hold a teasing note. “But maybe somewhere warmer? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

David laughs, something small and unsettled, but welcomed anyway.  “We can go to my place. It’s … I think it’s quieter there.”

The bunker remains cold and dark behind them as they turn their backs on it and face towards David’s home.  They’re silent as they make their way back there, retracing David’s steps, unwinding the journey he’d taken.  It’s not their usual silence, where they are content to just be in each other’s presence and no words are needed.  Instead, they’re unsure, their steps not quite in sync as they walk, and the only firm reassurance is the warmth of the hands that still hang between them, entwined.  At one point David tries to extricate his, wants to scratch his nose, but Matteo’s clutch at his hand, the quick darting glance he sends out of the corner of his eyes, and the way his breath speeds up as if in panic, is enough to still the attempt.  Despite the uneasy quality to the silence they’re sharing, it’s enough, that connection, and words can wait.

The click of the door is loud in the quiet of the building, the creak as it swings open breaking some of the tension that’s built in his body during the silent journey.  David shivers as he leads Matteo inside, his heart thudding against his ribs. He wants to do this; has felt much less at sea since Matteo took his hand at the bunker. But there’s still so much fear in him, so many parts of him want to cut and run again.  Once he’s done this, he can’t ever take it back, and there’s always the soul-numbing fear that Matteo will look at him differently. It’s probably good that David chose his own space rather than Matteo’s. There, he might have been tempted to run again. Here, he knows he’s going to have to stay and do it.  But here, he can also hear the soft refrain of music from Laura’s room, so she must be home, ready to back him if he needs it. He forces his body to relax.

“In here,” he says, directing Matteo to his room, then sits down on the bed and looks up at him, where he’s hovering by the door.  Takes in the lean lines of his body, the small smile on his lips, the tiny rigidity in his frame as if he too is scared. Matteo’s lips flick up into a smile and he visibly steadies himself, breathes in, closes his eyes.  When he opens them again he moves to the bed and sits next to David, his body a comforting weight next to David’s and the scent of his shampoo bringing up a helpless nostalgia. David closes his eyes, uses all his willpower not to lean into Matteo’s shoulder.

“You wanted to say something,” Matteo prompts, and David swallows.  It’s here, then. Matteo must sense something of his fear somehow, or he wants to settle his own, because he carefully reaches out and runs his fingers along the edge of David’s hand.  The touch is delicate, gentle, and David’s hand moves so their fingers run together, finally shifting so they join again. It’s not easier, exactly, but the touch grounds him somewhat as his fingers become entangled with Matteo’s.  His fears settle as he looks down at them, so he keeps his eyes on them as he whispers his secret. If he doesn’t look Matteo in the eyes, he doesn’t have to see if anything changes.

“I wanted to send this in a message, but I couldn’t make the words go right,” David admits so quietly he can barely hear himself.  But Matteo must hear him somehow because his fingers rub gently on the backs of David’s knuckles and he hums an affirmation.

“You can just tell me,” Matteo says eventually once the silence has piled up around them for too long.

David nods, takes a breath in, still focused on their hands.  His is shaking a little as it rests in Matteo’s. “Um … well, you know how I told you my parents don’t accept the way I am?”  He feels a slight twitch from Matteo’s fingers, and glances up long enough to see a nod before he refocuses on their hands. He’s stalling and he knows it, so David takes another deep breath and then steels himself to start.  “It’s just that … um, that boys, most boys are just … boys. And … and girls, too.”

He chances another glance up at Matteo’s face, seeing only confusion, and he manages a small huff of laughter.  He’s making a sad hash of this, and maybe Matteo will still run when he gets through this, but for right now his hand in David’s is something to hold onto.  His lips twist again, bitterly amused at himself. Literally and figuratively it’s something to hold onto.

“I was born into a girl’s body but I … I am a boy.”  Matteo’s hand grasps his own tighter and he shakes his head, disbelief warring with something softer on his face.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t really understand.”

His voice is soft and calm, his lack of understanding clear in the tone but no aggression or anger or hatred or any of the other things it _could_ have been, and relief floods David.  At least it’s not an immediate disgust.  He can hear his voice getting a little stronger when he finally says the words, “I’m transgender.”

Matteo sits for a long while, his head bowed as he too looks at their clasped hands.  David waits, knows from experience how long it can take for Matteo to work through information.  His heart starts hammering again. It’s not immediate disgust, but the fact that Matteo isn’t speaking leaves room for all the old fears and worries to start seeping back in.  Matteo’s hand is still in his own, but there’s the fear that it will pull away any moment. It takes all David’s strength to hold his own still and not drag it away before Matteo can.

“Um,” Matteo finally says, looking up at David with wide, confused eyes.  “So why didn’t you say anything?”

David’s eyes slip away from Matteo’s again and he sighs.  “We actually go to the same school,” he says. “And I didn’t want anyone there to know.  So I … I got used to keeping it to myself.”

This time Matteo nods as if he really does get it.  His hand is still warm in David’s grasp, and his fingers start a new gentle rub over David’s, whose eyes drift closed and he lets himself focus on that one spot.  He can feel his fingers twitching, still feels his body’s reflected desire to run as he always does. Feels it building inside him. But, just as he did when they were coming here, Matteo seems to sense it coming, grasps hard and refuses to relinquish his hold.

“Don’t,” he says.  “Stay. I don’t understand,” he sighs as he looks at David, covers their hands with his other one.  “But I want to.”

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for now.  David smiles, and that smile may be small and he may still feel fragile as if he’ll rip at every seam, but he’s not running.  And that’s something.

They talk.  It’s not easy, and Matteo clearly sometimes stumbles trying to find the words he wants to use, his tongue fumbling over concepts he has no knowledge of.  His questions are sometimes painful and prick at sores that haven’t ever healed properly. But through it all, Matteo’s hands remain firmly clutched around David’s as if he can’t bear to separate, and those hands on his own give David the security he needs to do this.

It gets too hard, though, the not knowing.  The longer this conversation lingers, and the longer Matteo asks those questions, the harder it is to cope with.  It starts to feel to David as if maybe it’s some sort of audition, that maybe Matteo will get to the end of this conversation and then politely say no thanks and walk away.  So eventually, David has to speak up. Matteo has gone silent, the latest of several short interludes where he’s clearly processing what he’s been hearing, and David takes the opportunity to speak into the silence.

“So … um.  What do you think?”

“Hmmm?” Matteo’s eyes come back into focus, locking onto David’s in a slow blink, and his lips lift in a delicate smile.

“Do you …” David takes a breath and looks him firmly in the eye, desperate now to see if anything really has changed.  “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want. I mean …”

“You want me to leave?”

Matteo’s fingers are suddenly painfully tight on David’s, and the hurt is clear in his voice.  David lets out another tiny puff of laughter. Why is he so bad at this? It’s _Matteo,_ so this shouldn’t be this awkward.  Still. He has to keep going, try to make this come out properly.

“No, I don’t.  But … I really like you and I need to know if you don’t want this…”  He means _don’t want me,_ but doesn’t quite have the courage to say it.  Doesn’t want to know if Matteo is about to walk away.

The hands around his own squeeze tighter and David squeaks as Matteo’s breath rushes out and he shakes his head.  He relinquishes the clasp quickly, letting David’s fingers settle more easily back into his own as he blushes and whispers his apology.

“These weeks without you have been the worst of my life,” Matteo says quietly once their hands have settled back into easiness.  “I really like you, too, and I’m not giving this up. Unless _you_ want me to.”

He bites his lip, watches David’s eyes carefully, a wary light in them as they flick over his face, clearly expecting to be pushed away.  Which is fair enough, David can admit, given that he did just disappear for several weeks, but the idea that _he_ would be the one who wouldn’t want to continue this is so laughable to him that he can’t help the grin that spreads over his face.  “I _really_ don’t want to,” he says.  “I want this. I want … you.”

They sit, side by side, hands clasped between them, and they smile.  David’s body relaxes, he can feel the tension seeping out, can feel the reciprocity in Matteo’s as they slide closer, bodies losing some tautness until their sides are pressed firmly together.  As if Matteo, too, has been holding himself rigid, dreading the outcome of this conversation.

Matteo reaches out one hand and lets it run down the edge of David’s jaw, the slight pressure hinting that he wants him to turn to look.  David can never resist that sort of appeal, not from Matteo. So he turns and the look he sees in Matteo’s eyes is enough to steal his breath again, just the way it did when he was in the old apartments and saw this boy for the first time.  Matteo’s eyes blink, slowly, and his lips drop open. David knows that look. He can feel his own lips curling up into a smile at the sight.

“Can I kiss you?” Matteo asks, leaning towards David but not closing the gap fully. Offering but not demanding again.  David’s heart flutters in his chest once more at how _careful_ Matteo is with him.

“Yeah,” David breathes, not willing to miss this for a moment longer, and presses his lips to Matteo’s.

It’s _more_ this time, better.  Now that it’s all out in the open and David doesn’t feel the need to hold back, he lets himself feel every sensation.  He melts, his body curving against Matteo’s in a way he’s never allowed it to before. Matteo’s hand cups his face, caressing, and David feels every press of those fingers as fire, warming him from the inside.  His own hands curl into Matteo’s hair and the joy of feeling those strands under his touch again after so long makes him sigh, pulling back from the overwhelming emotions and pressing their foreheads together.

With his thumbs running gentle circles on David’s face, Matteo pulls back enough that he can look at David.  He smiles, warmth lighting his eyes and making the blue shine.

“I want to be your boyfriend,” he says, “if you’ll have me.”

David puffs out another laugh as delight explodes in his chest.  “If I’ll have you?”

Grinning, looking giddy himself, Matteo raises his eyebrows.  “Yeah.”

“I guess I can put you out of your misery.”

Matteo’s face softens as if he hears the real meaning behind the words.  That David is, in fact, putting _himself_ out of his misery.  “Ass.” He pulls on David’s hoodie, tipping him enough off balance that he falls over onto Matteo and they both sprawl backwards onto the bed.  His eyes light up again, his desires clear in them as he adds, “kiss me.”

David considers holding out for a split second before he takes in the vulnerable flicker as Matteo’s eyes drift to his lips, then smiles as he leans in.  There’ll be time for teasing later. For now, David wants to enjoy this. It’s new and powerful, this knowledge that they can do this. That Matteo knows it all now and still looks at David with that mixture of awe and desire.  That he still kisses as if he’s breathing again for the first time.

 

**Coda**

David hums cheerfully as he puts the finishing touches on the work in front of him.  He’s finally pleased with it, has been struggling with it ever since the day he first saw Matteo at the factory and first tried to recreate his essence in art form.  The problem is that the subtle thing that David has always felt was ‘Matteo’ doesn’t transfer to the usual pencil drawings he does, the harsh lines never really doing justice to the softness and vulnerability David has always seen in Matteo.  There’s something in the twist of his mouth that defies the way David usually works his lines and has frustrated every attempt David has made yet. So the fact that it’s working now lends a happiness to his day and he’s relaxed as he bends over his work in the soft light of the window.  The colors he’s finally chosen to flesh out the picture have given a purpose and a life to the piece and he tilts his head back so he can examine it critically.

The mustard blending into the dark blue of the background takes him back to that day at the factory again.  It’s almost visceral the way he can feel the cool of the barrel under his fingers as he touched the mustard swirl, the one that had reminded him so vividly of Matteo even while he hovered in the background.  At the time, it had felt like David would never be able to make a real sort of connection, never be able to give in to the want that had sat so easily in his chest as he’d looked at the patterns swirling so close with so much promise but never meeting, in what had seemed like a bitter symbol of David’s future.  At the time, the daily reality of his existence was all encompassing and made him wary even as he was pulled towards the other boy, the painting on the barrel a clear warning to himself of the dangers of letting someone get too close.

In his picture, though, the same mustard color swirls around his, David’s, head then merges and blends with the dark blue that curls around Matteo, in its turn highlighting the glint of the sun shining off his blond hair as his face is lit up as it turns to grin at David.  His own mouth is stretched into a wide smile, free and easy for the first time in what seemed like years. It’s filled with a happiness and a vitality that David has found scarce in his life. The colors between the two boys in the picture curl and twirl around each other, but unlike the ones in the factory, David allows them to bleed together, to share parts of themselves with each other.

He hears soft footsteps behind him and leans back as Matteo reaches him.  His arms slip around David’s chest, meeting just over his belly button as Matteo’s chin comes to rest on his shoulder.  David glances sideways, enough so he can see the small tilt of Matteo’s lips as he examines the picture. He looks at David, smiles, then slips onto a stool next to him, his arm sliding so it sits on his shoulder.

“I like it,” Matteo says softly, as his gaze flickers over the work in front of David.  His hair tickles David’s neck as he nods, and the feather-light tendrils brush against his cheek, the blond highlights gleaming in the sunlight and reflecting the colors David has so painstakingly placed onto the painting in front of him.  He cleans off his brush and turns more so he can kiss the hair sitting so temptingly next to him, taking one of Matteo’s hands as he puts the brush down, their fingers slotting as easily together as they always have.

“I think it’s almost done,” he says and Matteo gives a soft affirming hum.  He reaches out and lets the fingers of his other hand hover over the place where the colors meet.

“This is good,” he says.  “I like the way they’re making something new here.”

“Something new,” David agrees.  It hasn’t been easy, and there are still times when something happens or someone says something and he wants to twist himself into a tiny ball and get out of the sight of the world.  But he’s learning to deal with those things in another way, learning to trust in himself and to push them away, even fight back sometimes.

Matteo kisses his cheek as he releases his hand and stands up.  His fingers rest on David’s shoulder, though, as if unwilling to be parted.  David understands that. This something new they’re creating is heady and delightful as it blends its way into David’s life, and he’s not willing to be apart from Matteo for too long while it’s still so delightful and fresh.  Nothing’s really changed, he thinks as he looks back at the picture and his fingers rise to touch the hand on his shoulder. The stuff he’s always dealt with is still there, but this new thing with Matteo, and all the heady pleasure it’s bringing, is worth taking a step; it’s worth trying not to be alone for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, we're all done!! I've really enjoyed doing this one and thank you to everyone who came along for the ride. I appreciate all of you <3  
> The beautiful art for this chapter was done by Camilla and can be found in its own post [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011490) or [on tumblr](https://hjertetssunnegalskap1.tumblr.com/post/185218442945/happy-birthday-sarah-you-are-amazing-and-you) so you should all go give her some love.  
> If you want to say hi, you can come on over to [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/evakuality)


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